


War In Times of Peace

by raendown



Series: MadaTobi Week 2019 [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Arranged Marriage, M/M, Slow Burn, and I actually mean that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2020-07-31 02:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 189,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20107933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn't happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> MadaTobi Week Day 1 Prompt: Arranged marriage
> 
> I solidly promise the rest of this is better than the first chapter implies. This first chapter was actually written around two years ago and I dug it out to finally make an actual story of it. I have more than 100k written already so I'll update once a week on Sundays from here on out. 
> 
> And when I say slow burn...I mean slow burn. These guys are _idiots_. Please forgive them.

Wizened hands straightened the pages of notes scattered across the table, clearing away the detritus so that a massive scroll covered with neatly printed letters and carefully straight lines could be unrolled for all present to see.

“So it’s decided then; the terms are agreed upon?”

Madara had never been very fond of the elders in his own clan. Not that any of them had ever done him some kind of personal wrong but he was unashamed to say that they were a bunch of dusty old codgers who should have retired and sat down to play quietly with their grandchildren years ago. After the torture of the past few weeks, however, he was ready to kill them all with his own two hands just to make them _shut up_. He wasn’t a patient person at the best of times. This was not the best of times.

The serene line of aging Senju on the other side of the pavilion all nodded in eerie unison, dangerous smiles on every one of their faces. Madara hated them more than his own elders. At least he always knew what the Uchiha coots were thinking. These wrinkled old biddies were impossible to read.

“They are,” one of the Senju said in a warbling voice. “Let us review. The accords are thus…”

Madara was born of the Uchiha clan, whose enviable strength could be rivalled only by the Senju clan. The two peoples had long lived far enough apart that they were not often called to fight each other – but territories were shifting. As they began to clash more and more often on the battlefield over the last few years both clans recognized the danger posed. It was clear that they were each the only real threat to the other and to eliminate that threat a simple solution had been proposed: an alliance.

Messengers ran back and forth for several months carrying proposals and counter proposals almost without end until finally a meeting was set up to hash out the finals details of the most momentous peace treaty in living memory. The council of elders from both clans had been the ones to do most of the talking. Both Heads were always present, of course, along with the eldest heir of each, but mostly they communicated through the elders who were used to carrying a certain amount of gravitas. Madara had never wished so hard for an older sibling. He was so _bored_ by it all and if that idiot Senju Hashirama didn’t stop fidgeting across the pavilion then Madara could not be blamed for burning the whole tent to the ground out of simple irritation.

It took quite some time to read out each and every one of the articles in their new treaty, pausing for the collective audience to agree to all of them one by one. Madara didn’t listen much. His main interest was in the two most important points and those were saved for last.

First of those was that the two clans had agreed to band together and build a village in the unclaimed territory almost exactly halfway between their two compounds. They had plans to invite many of the other clans in Hi no Kuni to make this a venture of peace and prosperity for all who would have it, a place where children could grow without having to worry about being sent to the battlefield before they lost their first tooth. The whole idea had actually been Madara’s big contribution, his suggestion. The location had been proposed by Hashirama. It was the first sign of an actual working brain inside the idiot’s skull.

The second article he cared about was the more concerning one. To build a village together and declare peace was one thing but the elders felt that an incentive to _keep_ that peace was needed as well; not only for the cohesiveness of their own peoples but also as a show of unity to any other clans who may choose to join them. The Uchiha and Senju must be seen as moving together. It was decided rather late in the negotiations that binding their clans together by marriage was the best way to do that, a marriage between the eldest unmarried child of each head family. Madara had not taken well to being offered up like a sacrificial piece of meat – especially when he heard that there were no female Senju heirs. He was being married off to a _boy_. He wasn’t even sure if he liked boys! A couple of really strange dreams did not mean anything definite.

There was no need to be surreptitious when eyeing the oaf across the tent from him now. Hashirama was drumming his fingers on his thighs, listening to his elders speak with a broad smile and a surprising amount of attention. Madara took in the long brown hair and the deeply tanned skin, his dark brown eyes and too wide mouth. Miraculously, he’d never met his unwitting bridegroom on the battlefield and Madara wondered if he looked very much like his older brother. Sage but he hoped not. It would be like getting married to Hashirama and the very thought made him shudder. Just because the fool had a few redeeming qualities that made for easy conversation during the recesses between talks did not mean Madara had any desire for him.

Even more disturbing was the fear that they might _act_ like him. He wasn’t sure he would survive even a single month bonded to someone who bounced in their seat like a child whenever they were excited or drooped with over-dramatic misery when their ideas were rejected. Hashirama was close to the same age as him and yet he acted as though he were half that. Madara certainly would not have a peaceful life if he had to share his home with someone like that idiot.

Finally, _finally,_ the wizened Senju read out the last of the accords and received unanimous agreement from everyone present. Madara breathed a sigh of relief that the final day of this was finally over as he and his father stepped forward to sign the treaty laid out on the table. There were two copies for them to mark and they would take one with them for the perusal of their clansmen back home, to keep in their records should it ever be necessary to scrutinize the precise wording of each line to find loopholes – Madara knew his father, after all, and he knew the man was very fond of loopholes. It felt a bit like agreeing to sell his soul to the devil but Madara forced both hands to stay steady and produce his most elegant calligraphy as he took the brush to sign. The name _Uchiha Madara_ had never looked more beautiful – nor felt so heavy.

They left the next day, returning to their traditional home with the date of Madara’s nuptials already picked out. Each clan had been given tasks to fulfill in preparation of the wedding and the building of their village as well. Madara’s task was to show up at the altar on the right day and try not to look like he wished death or destruction upon either himself or his groom. At least, that was how his father had put it. Tajima had been nearly as furious as Madara was at the first mention of an arranged marriage for his son just as most of the Uchiha delegation had. It was the worst sort of culture shock to discover such practices were actually commonplace among the Senju.

But that anger hadn’t lasted long, quickly fading to calm acceptance, and Madara wished he knew what could have made Tajima change his mind so easily in the face of something so completely against everything their people believed in. He wished he could be so confident in this path that had been chosen for him.

He also wished he had been allowed to express the emotions he truly felt about this whole fiasco. He wanted to rail against those Senju windbags, scream in their faces and demand to know what in the world was _wrong_ with them. Arranged marriages were absolutely barbaric! Marriage was supposed to be a sacred covenant of love not a business transaction. Madara felt cold and used; he felt like prospects which should be his to choose from had been ripped away without his consultation. Like the rest of his family, he was a creature of emotion. He believed in love, true love, and that every person should have the opportunity to find it. Now he would never have that and he wasn’t sure he would ever forgive his father or any of the elders for voting to take it all away from him.

Madara was granted one full year of freedom after the Uchiha and the Senju made peace. He would have had less than half that but it was extended out of necessity as members of both clans were kept busy constructing the village where they would come together. He, on the other hand, spent nearly every second he could breathing deeply of the air around his home, rubbing at his wrists as if he could already feel the shackles there. He ran unchecked through the forests he’d grown up in, sparring with Izuna in violent clashes that only barely helped expel his tumultuous emotions.

“You could always run away,” his brother told him cheekily one afternoon as they lay panting in a field of burnt grass. He scowled and tossed a handful of ash, making Izuna squeal as he hurried to claw the grainy substance out of his long dark hair.

“And shame both myself and the entire clan?” he retorted. “Besides, where would I go? What would I do? I wouldn’t have a clan to find missions to earn my meals. I wouldn’t have you. You’re a Class-A idiot but I would miss you. For some reason.”

Izuna had only laughed, continuing to clean out his hair while Madara brooded. He’d been trying the entire time to think of a way out of this without bringing shame to himself or his family. In the end there had been nothing. He couldn’t even step down as heir because what kind of big brother would he be to force Izuna in to the same position he wanted so desperately to escape? No, the only path for him to take was to follow the demands of the treaty as his elders and supposed betters had agreed. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. He was very free to hate his new groom as much as he wanted; _especially_ if he looked and acted like Hashirama.

All he had to do was keep that hatred to himself so no one would suspect how unhappy he was. They were being married for a purpose, after all.

The day of the wedding saw Madara nearly sick with anxiety when it finally came. The ceremony was to be held in the village once those who still remained in the compounds made the final move to Konohagakure, as it had been named. Madara stepped through the gates for the first time in mid-morning with Izuna at his side, both of them taking in the sites with wide eyes. He found himself more impressed than he wanted to be. He wanted to hate this place and was a little disappointed to find that he couldn’t, not when it was so magnificent, so full of promise.

Before he could get too carried away with sightseeing he was whisked away to the part of the village set aside for members of his own clan. There he was primped and prodding, dressed and decorated, made up for an event which should have had his heart feeling light with joy. Instead all he felt was dread heavy in his chest. It took more than an hour for his kimono alone to be properly put on, each layer pinned in place to accentuate his shape and the elaborate obi of the head family tied just so. His wild mane of hair was brushed until it gleamed and some of it caught up in an elegant top knot, adorned with the same kanzashi that had been worn by each of his predecessors for innumerable generations. When his attendants declared him ready and bowed out of the room, Madara turned to the mirror that he had avoided looking at since arriving.

In a word he looked beautiful. Certainly it was obvious that he was a man – and a rather strong one at that – but the traditional wedding outfit also showcased the beauty in him which he rarely bothered to play up. He usually preferred to let his hair fall wild, obscuring his face. With it out of the way all the focus was on his shapely eyes and the miraculously clear skin that remained free of scars or blemishes. He wished he could have taken more pleasure in what he saw there. Still, one is never sure what memories one will wish to look back on some day. Madara made a point of activating his Sharingan and committing to memory the sight of himself on his wedding day. He really did look good.

An hour later Izuna was sent to fetch him for the ceremony. The moment it finally sank in a year before that he was to be married Madara had asked his brother to stand with him, a subtle snub he was sure his father merely chose to ignore. He should have asked his father as the head of their family but instead he chose the one he was closest to, the one who had no blame on his shoulders for this sham of a union. Izuna’s voice sounded a little choked when he first laid eyes on him and Madara made a show of rolling his eyes.

“If you cry on me I will never forgive you,” he said. His brother laughed and took a moment to deliberately look him over with admiring eyes before opening the door wider, indicating that Madara should follow him out. The older of the two swallowed. It was time.

And he wasn’t ready.

No matter what he felt inside Madara was the picture of calm as he approached the orchard in which his wedding was to be held. It was a unique idea and he was loathe to admit to it but he liked it. The apple trees were in blossom, sending pink and white petals drifting on a gentle breeze to land in the hair of each guest seated among them. He was led through a cozy little community building and out the back to reach the orchard, drawing the eyes of the congregation with his arrival. They stood to receive him, of course, but he refused to look at any of the people gathered to send him to his doom. He looked only straight ahead, walking placidly down one of two aisles that had been cleared between the guests.

When he reached the dais set up at the end of his short walk he caught movement in the corner of his eye. His groom had arrived, keeping pace with him down the second aisle so neither of them arrived before the other. He tilted his head ever so slightly to peek sideways but found Hashirama standing between him and the man he was to wed. Madara only barely resisted the urge to huff in annoyance. The oaf was standing on the wrong side. Of course he was. Before he could say anything himself a new voice murmured low in a scolding tone and then Hashirama was blushing lightly with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry brother! Sorry!” he chirped, dashing around to the other side of his companion.

Madara’s breath left his body with a hard rush, leaving his lungs empty and quite unable to draw another. A face even more pale than his own turned just enough for a pair of deep red eyes to catch his, a brief moment that lasted forever as they took each other in for the first time. Senju Tobirama had cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, each adorned with slashing red marks that were matched to a third one running down his chin. His hair was the color of untouched snow, cut short and ruffled by the wind. Startlingly, he was taller than Madara by several inches and the expression on his face was perfectly smooth, almost nonexistent.

Madara’s gaze flickered between the two men next to him rapidly, trying not to let his jaw drop. How the hell was _this_ Hashirama’s brother? They looked nothing alike! Tobirama raised one pale eyebrow just a bit, asking wordlessly what was wrong with him, and Madara puffed up a bit with instinctual defense. He was allowed to be shocked! No one had prepared him for this – this gorgeous vision who was just as much of a sacrifice as him yet seemed entirely unbothered by it at all.

The priest cleared his throat, snapping Madara’s attention back towards the dais. He was an ancient man who had spent his life tending to the oldest temple in the Land of Fire. It was actually Hashirama's idea that he travel here to perform the ceremony as a neutral party so no one now or in the future could say that either the Senju or the Uchiha had more influence in this bonding. Much of the ceremony and the reception to take place afterwards had been designed to show equal influence from both clans so that neither was more prominent than the other, a visual declaration that they all intended to live together in harmony. As much as Madara understood the necessity and the intelligence behind it all there was still a small voice in the back of his mind that was sad to see the glaring absences where Uchiha tradition had given way to compromise, small things like the colors of the flowers and the placement of the banners. It just wasn’t how he had pictured his wedding.

With a dusty clearing of his throat their priest began the ceremony by reciting a traditional prayer for prosperity and love between the couple to be joined. Madara tried very hard to pay attention but he found his eyes sliding sideways as much as he could without being obvious, drinking in the sight of his surprisingly attractive groom. He couldn’t say he was happy about the situation he’d been forced in to but he was selfish enough to admit that such a handsome face certainly did make everything look just that much brighter. At the very least he would have something nice to look at as the days passed them by. Now all he had to worry about was whether the personality was half as pretty as the face was.

After what felt like a never-ending prayer came the sermon. Then the vows and the exchanging of rings and an odd little mini-ceremony where the priest asked them to hold hands and knotted a band of silk around their clasped fingers, declaring it symbolic of the way their hearts and fates were now bound together. As Madara understood it, that was a Senju tradition. Or at least he hoped so. If not it was just the crazy ramblings of an ancient priest.

Finally came the moment he was dreading when the priest asked them to seal their union with a kiss. He didn’t quite gulp because they were being watched by important members of both clans and it would not do to look so weak in front of them. He did, however, feel his heart beating erratically as they leaned in towards each other, eyes wide open and unblinking. It was unnerving the way those red eyes seemed to stare right through him. It took more concentration than it should have to stop himself from jumping when surprisingly soft lifts pressed against his own with a gentle, fleeting pressure. Then they were gone in the next instant leaving him feeling oddly bereft until he was distracted by the thunderous cheers of their audience.

The priest unwound the ribbon from their hands and they turned to face their peoples, no longer touching each other but standing shoulder to shoulder in a preplanned show of solidarity. The rest of Madara’s life was to be a deliberate show of solidarity, he realized. He would spend the rest of his days playing husband, acting a part, consciously choosing his actions to appear to be in good relations with a man he did not love. As he stood on the dais and watched the happy faces of those looking back at him, Madara wondered how long it would take before he started questioning if this was all worth it. Perhaps he already was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mention here because I stupidly forgot to on the first chapter: MASSIVE shoutout to copyninken, without whom I would not have worked through half of the mental blocks this story has given me in the 28 chapters I have written so far, and also a shoutout to officer_jennie who has helped so much as well. Probably half the ideas in this story can be credited in at least some way to the two of you.

The festivities after the wedding were, in a word, unique. As with the rest of this event they were a strange mish-mash of Uchiha and Senju traditions, emphasizing the alliance between their two clans. What kept most of Madara’s attention through all of it, however, was his new husband.

It was fascinating to watch him in comparison to others, a pillar of cool indifference sitting completely still in the face of the whirlwind that was Hashirama. The older man bounced around his brother like an excited puppy, appearing and disappearing as the evening wore on, popping up at random with a bright smile and new gossip to spout before wandering off again. Tobirama, in complete contrast, was a perfect example of poise where he sat on his cushion beside Madara. He greeted their guests with a rumbling baritone and carefully chosen words that walked a very fine line between polite and brusque.

From what Madara had overheard between the two Senju siblings Tobirama wasn’t as young as he originally thought. He was nineteen to Madara’s twenty-two, not nearly as large of a difference as the peace treaty talks had led him to believe. First impressions seemed to suggest that he was also more mature than his older brother and shared very few personality traits with him, a boon he was most grateful for.

As the revelries droned on Madara was introduced to the few other people who were ostensibly the most important in his new husband’s life. He met a vicious woman named Touka whom for a moment he felt should have been born in the Uchiha clan. A gaze as sharp and cold as hers would have been incredible with a Sharingan to bolster her power. Then her eyes fell on her cousin and she softened just the slightest bit, leaning down to coo mockingly over Tobirama and whisper teasing things in his ear like any sibling might. He also met Hashirama’s wife and understood immediately that they might never be close friends. Uzumaki Mito was a proud and fearsome woman who entered each room as if she were a queen, expecting all others to bow before her. She earned his grudging respect over the course of one conversation – as well as made him question what in the seven hells had inspired her to wed Hashirama, of all people.

It took almost three full hours before the two grooms saw fit to finally speak with one another in direct conversation for the very first time. Dinner had been cleared away long ago and Tobirama’s fingers lingered on the stem of his champagne glass like a lover’s touch. The alcohol was imported from a distant land, something Madara had never tasted, and he found that every sip he took made him feel strangely as though he were sipping bubbles. He was scrunching his nose at the sensation when he noticed the man beside him going still, red eyes flicking down to stare with intense interest at Madara’s sleeve.

“Is that silk from the Land of Water?” he asked. Madara raised an eyebrow, looking down at his arm.

“Yes, an old family heirloom,” he replied. It was an incredibly rare material and very expensive. This kimono had been in his clan’s treasury for generations, worn only by those of the head family, and it should have been an honor to carry on that tradition. It wasn’t something he thought would catch the eye of this man, although he couldn’t have said what made him think like that.

“The pattern is fascinating, especially the seal work in the stitching.” When Madara stared at blankly Tobirama tilted his head ever so slightly in question. “Did you not know it was there?”

“No, I knew it was there but how did you?”

Tobirama’s lips quirked ever so slightly. “I am a sensor. I’d thought the buzz on my senses was just from having this many chakra signatures so close together all at once. Then I realized it was coming from you; I can feel the latent power in your kimono. It’s _fascinating_.”

The look in his eyes said he would very much like to take the silk apart and study it to unravel all the many hidden secrets. Madara was torn between the urge to lean away in protection of his precious heirloom and the desire to let him do as he pleased. Few in his own clan were even aware of the protective seals built in to his garments, commissioned that way so many years ago the memory had been lost to time. To his knowledge Tobirama was the only person who had ever sensed that the seals were there, so subtle was their work. He was impressed to say the least.

“My brother tells me you’re not entirely a bumbling idiot.”

Being impressed gave way immediately to being flabbergasted as Madara’s jaw gaped open.

“I – what?”

“Hashirama tells me you are passably intelligent.”

“Uhh…” He realized the irony, of course, that he currently looked nothing more than a fool. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to say to that. “I am regarded as a rather skilled tactician I suppose.” It was the best response he could come up with yet he still wanted to slap a palm to his own face. That certainly hadn’t helped him _sound_ intelligent.

Tobirama looked at him with a face entirely devoid of expression for so long he started to wonder if the man was suddenly regretting every life choice that had ever brought him to this moment, married to a complete idiot. Just as he was about to open his mouth and attempt to redeem himself Tobirama let out a contemplative hum, the corners of his mouth twitching again, and turned back to watching their guests. Madara blinked, unsure what that reaction was supposed to mean and unwilling to embarrass himself further by asking. He still wasn’t sure if that observation was meant as an insult or not.

The rest of the night passed with very little conversation between them. Hashirama flitted back and forth, chattering at the both of them with every pass he made by their table. Izuna showed up after a while and helped Madara feel a bit more comfortable by bringing up their last spar, mentioning that he thought he had finally figured out how to block that one strike of Madara’s he never seemed to be able to get away from. He noticed Tobirama watching them with interest out of the corner of his eye and realized he had no idea what the younger man’s skill level was like. Hashirama he had encountered on the battlefield once or twice. Tobirama was a mystery. He wondered if his husband would like to spar sometime. If nothing else if would be an excellent way to get to know each other, a traditional shinobi introduction.

Finally, after a few more hours which felt like days, it was time to leave. In yet another tradition that felt strange to him, the Senju guests insisted the newlyweds be escorted to their new home in a raucous procession that twisted through the streets behind them as they went. They were dropped off at their front door amid jeering whistles that he wasn’t sure if he should be offended by. Tobirama appeared to take it all in stride, barely even seeming to notice as they were waved in to their freshly built house by a pair of adolescents wiggling their eyebrows at them.

And then they were alone.

Madara looked closely at his surroundings in an attempt to distract himself from the man standing beside him. He’d given his opinions and requests for how their house should be built but this was the first he’d seen of it since, instead of helping the construction crews, he had spent the last year deliberately avoiding anything that reminded him of his impending nuptials. He supposed the full inspection should wait for the next day when he wasn’t quite as exhausted so for now he settled for an impression of good quality wood – probably built using Hashirama’s fabled Mokuton – and glimpses of tasteful furniture in the next room. He allowed those things to hold his interest and distract him until the two of them were standing side by side in a bedchamber on the second floor lit only by a single candle. Obviously someone had prepared for their arrival.

Both of them being clad in formal clothing meant that neither could undress themselves without assistance. Madara fought with his cheeks, trying not to blush and failing when Tobirama casually asked if Madara could help remove his clothing. He averted his eyes once the other was down to the last thin layer of his hadajuban and requested help in return. Tobirama looked amused by his bashfulness but said nothing.

His touch was gentle as he untied Madara’s obi and helped him shrug out of his many layers but it was also strangely invasive. Pale hands lingered more than necessary and with each layer he seemed to find an excuse for his fingers to brush against Madara’s skin. It was unnerving, keeping Madara on edge until finally he too was clad only in one thin layer of soft cotton gifted to him brand new for the occasion. He felt exposed even though he was technically still fully covered. When Tobirama reached for his last piece of clothing he leapt away as if he were being attacked, eyes widened and pulse racing.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. One side of Tobirama’s mouth lifted.

“Helping you undress?” he replied. Madara huffed.

“I think I’ve undressed enough, thank you! This is fine!”

“Still a bit too much clothing, don’t you think?” The pale man took slow steps toward him, an oddly predatory look on his face that made Madara feel almost as if he were being hunted. “I suppose I could work around them but why bother?”

Madara refused to back away because that showed weakness and he was not _weak_. He did lean away from the other man, though, unaware of the very harried look on his face.

“Work around them?” he repeated. “What on earth are you talking about? What do think we’re going to be doing, sparring?” He snorted almost in time with Tobirama.

“Sparring. If that’s the euphemism you’d like to use, then sure.” The younger man had stepped right up in to his personal space and seemed to loom over him with the strangest light in his eye. He was very good at looming, really making that height difference work for him. Madara frowned at his new husband.

“Euphemism? What would you call it then?” He was getting more and more off-balance by the second.

“Sex.”

Tobirama jerked as Madara’s suddenly flailing hand caught him under the jaw by accident. Madara stumbled backwards, no longer caring if it looked like a retreat or not as utter mortification flooded his system. The blush he had been working so hard at holding back broke free of his control to color his entire face a screaming shade of red.

“What!? Are you out of your mind? We’ve only just met!” He tried not to clutch his own bosom like some civilian milkmaid but it was harder than it should have been. His companion gave him an odd look.

“Yes and now we are married; this is what married couple do.” Tobirama spoke in such a matter-of-fact tone that Madara was left gaping. This man was insane!

“You expect me to have sex with a perfect stranger?” he demanded. “Just-just like that?” Tobirama looked genuinely confused at his reaction, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head in a considering manner. Something appeared to occur to him because both of his eyebrows slowly raised up towards his hairline.

“You’re a virgin!”

Madara scowled, the blush on his cheeks spreading down the back of his neck.

“Well you don’t have to sound so incredulous! Of course I’ve never- I was unmarried! Are you saying you’re _not_ a virgin?” The very idea seemed-

“Not for years,” Tobirama stated in a casual manner, as if it should have been expected that he wouldn’t be. Madara gaped. He found himself almost personally offended that the one he was marrying was not a virgin, especially when the other was still a couple of years younger than him and never so much as betrothed before. At his incredulous look Tobirama appeared confused again. “It’s not such a big deal. There’s probably very few people my age who are virgins. Did you really hold out for marriage? What if your partner had no idea what they were doing?”

“I don’t know! We’d learn together or something! Seek advice!” Flustered, he was aware, was not a good look on him. He felt like an awkward bumbling idiot and he hated the feeling. Hated the man before him for bringing out those feelings.

“If you’re willing to learn I’m willing to teach,” Tobirama told him and it was as though a flip had been switched once again. Everything from his expression to his posture to the angle of his hips suddenly exuded sensuality. Madara’s mouth went dry even as he took another step back, not even realizing that he was clutching the edges of his clothing and holding them tightly closed as though he expected the other to force him.

Tobirama flipped back to scowling again at the motion, visibly offended. Madara did not care.

“You are a stranger to me!” he cried. “Intimacy should be between lovers, not just two people who happen to be in the same room together! So just you keep your hands to yourself! I am not some harlot willing to fall in to bed with a perfect stranger just because we signed some stupid piece of paper!” He only barely resisted the urge to stomp his foot.

“_You _signed that stupid piece of paper. I did not. You have only yourself to blame if you cannot hold up your end of any agreements that you chose to put your name on. Are you always this uptight, oh husband of mine? Should I expect a lifetime of this?”

“Expect whatever you want but expect to keep your hand off of me!”

“What I expect is for both of us to make an equal effort. Whether you like it or not – and it’s becoming rather obvious that you do not – we are married. You and I are the knot to tie our clans together and if that knot unravels then so does peace. So quit looking at me like I’ve come to steal your virtue and get your head out of your ass. You’re not some innocent maiden; you are a clan heir. And before you let that go to your head I will remind you that so am I!”

Madara looked at Tobirama and saw every dream of true love he’d ever had disappearing in to mist, ash scattering in the wind faster than he could grasp after the fading remnants. He couldn’t help thinking that he’d never met someone so different from himself in all the wrong ways. It wasn’t truly a fair thought since he didn’t actually know very much about this man yet but Madara had always been quick to judge people. He judged Tobirama now and found him lacking.

In the fading mist of his dreams he could almost see the shadow of his doomed future, married to a man he didn’t love, sniping and clawing at each other over every word. Grief settled quietly at the base of his spine, a knot of piteous hurt he refused to show. Instead he focused on the anger. How dare this perfect stranger try to speak down to him! How dare this man suggest that Madara was anything but dutiful! He’d gone through with it, hadn’t he? He had put his name on the paper and come to Konoha to allow a noose to be tied around his neck. To say he was not making an effort was incredibly insulting.

“Do not speak to me of peace!” Madara snarled. “I’ve lost three brothers to these stupid conflicts between the clans, I know what it is to want peace! ‘Making an effort’ as you call it has nothing to do with allowing a perfect stranger to touch me in ways he has not earned!”

“_Earned_? You make it sound like I’ve asked you to grace me with some favor that you find repugnant!” He looked bewildered and angry, insulted, and Madara could feel his own spiky personality bristling, throwing barbs before he had a chance to think them through.

“Maybe I find you repugnant!” he cried. “You’re a man! I’ve been married off to another man! No one took my wishes in to account in this. No one stopped to ask me if I was at all interested in such aberrant acts!”

He watched in confusion as Tobirama’s scowl melted away to return his face to the empty canvas much like the way it had been all night. In an instant that pale face was blank, his three red tattoos the only expression to be found. It was unnerving. Deep down a feeling in Madara’s gut told him that he had just said something in very poor taste, something he should apologize for.

He didn’t.

“I did not know you found such things so distasteful,” the younger man said, ice cracking in every word. “I will endeavor not to insult you further. _Husband_.”

With that he turned away and Madara watched in silence as his new spouse slid in between the sheets of their futon, facing away towards the far wall. The candle by the doorway flickered and danced, sending one weak flame of light spilling across the back of a white neck. His hair nearly blended in to the pillow he lay on and, despite the lax position he had arranged himself in, tension was still visible between his shoulders. In an obvious effort to put as much distance between them as possible he lay almost hugging the side of the futon and the petty parts of Madara noted that it wasn’t necessary in such a large bed but much appreciated. Clearly as the wronged party here he deserved to have the most space to be comfortable in.

He took one step towards the bed before remembering his hair. Between them they had taken off his clothing but he was still going to have to free his thick mane from the topknot that had miraculously survived the night without unravelling.

If he’d had help it would have been much easier. He deliberately did not think about the help that lay only a few feet away pretending to be asleep already. Instead he wrestled with the stubborn locks by himself until he had pulled the constraints apart and rescued his heirloom kanzashi from the carnage. It took some time to brush it all out; having it all twisted together for so long had given him some interesting kinks to work through.

By the time he sorted out his own head and was ready at last for sleep he had cooled down from their argument quite a bit. He was therefore calm enough to admit that most of his upset had come from sheer panic, from the feeling that he was not in charge of the situation and needing to regain that control. He had, perhaps, spoken a little too harshly and said some things he didn’t mean. Not that there was anything new about that. Izuna told him constantly that he needed to just _breathe_ when he was angry. Madara never listened, despite the fact that he really should.

It was a right fine mess he’d made now. The very same day that he got married and already he had managed to anger his new life partner, possibly alienated him entirely. He would have to find a way to fix this or at least patch the damage done because Tobirama was disgustingly right about one thing at least. The two of them were a symbol of peace and if being a clan heir had taught him anything it was that symbols were important. A symbol gave the lower ranks something to look at, something to look up to. Should their partnership dissolve so easily it would be simple for others to assume that peace as a whole would do the same. It was imperative that they at least make this marriage appear to work.

When he finally laid his head on the pillow Madara wondered if he was up to this task. He was a man made for war, trained for little more since birth. What did he know of peace or how to make it? What did he know of marriage?


	3. Chapter 3

Tobirama’s fingers slid between silk and cotton, playing with the hems of each shirt in his closet. He’d never owned so much clothing all at once before and he had very mixed feelings about it. On the one hand it was only proper that he be given gifts to celebrate his marriage. Similar traditions probably existed in almost every clan, whether shinobi or civilian, in each of the five great nations. On the other hand…

A scowl marred his features as he moved the garment in his hand to one side with a disdainful flick, turning the kimono to see the uchiwa fan sewn in to the back where it would sit directly between the shoulder blades. Everything he’d been gifted bore the symbol of the Clan he now lived among and he hated it. He hated it because it didn’t belong to him and he didn’t belong to them. Why should he bear the mark of a clan that rejected him so obviously?

With a dismissive grunt he pushed that shirt aside and instead reached for one he had brought with him from his old home. The blue color of it was solid all the way around, broken only by the Senju crest stitched in the wide white trim near his collar. Where most of the clothing he had been given was crafted in shades of black and purple, interrupted with the occasional splash of red, Tobirama had always preferred to dress himself in shades of blue. He liked the calmness of the color and the way it made him look like a breaking wave, white foam crashing atop rippling blue waters – though he would rather die a hundred deaths than express such whimsical nonsense to anyone. 

The closet made a quiet click as he very gently closed the doors, stepping back with the clothing he’d selected in hand and striding from the room without so much as a single glance back at the bed. Madara would still be asleep and there was little to be gained from gawking at a dreaming man. It had already begun to take a toll on him, this new habit of sleeping so little, but it was worth it to avoid the fights he knew would inevitably happen if he were to spend more time at home. So Tobirama continued to rise before the sun each day and escape his bridal residence before his spouse had even awoken, hiding yawns with clenched jaws and deep scowls while he prayed no one saw fit to comment on the deep bags growing under his eyes.

As had become his new habit, he changed clothing in the hallway downstairs and tossed his sleepwear in to the laundry room as he passed by on his way to the kitchen. He found it a bit odd that the Uchiha let servants do their laundry – it was strange trusting someone else to clean his undergarments – but it was one of the few things he found that he actually enjoyed here. At least now Hashirama had no way of guilting him in to washing both of their dirty clothes and there was more time each day to spend on other things instead of mucking about with laundry soaps or remembering to fetch his shirts back from the clothesline.

Breakfast nowadays was whatever he could find in the fridge to eat quickly and quietly on his way out the door. He sorely missed the times when he could sleep until the sun was well risen and eat a leisurely morning meal with his brother and Mito. Now he was reduced to sneaking out of his own so-called ‘home’ and making his way across the private Uchiha district market in the dark of pre-dawn.

Not many people on the street greeted him. It had been that way since his first day among these people and no matter that it continued to bother him he refused to let that show. Emotions were unseemly, better kept to oneself and never to be expressed in public like a child who cannot control themselves. As a whole he'd discovered the Uchiha to be a frighteningly expressive bunch with the capacity to overwhelm him all too easily with how freely they shouted their feelings to the world. That he was not in the habit of doing the same had led him to a quiet sort of ostracism which, despite how it ached, was honestly for the best.

These were Madara’s people. What point was there in allowing himself to grow close to those who would obviously take his husband’s side in any argument or in the unwanted event of a catastrophic divorce?

It wasn’t that any of the people passing him by were rude in any way. Were they his own people he would have applauded the decorum with which they presented themselves. Rather it was that he had observed how the Uchiha conducted themselves when interacting with each other and the cold silence they presented to him, the stark formality with no hint of warmth, it was all too clear they accepted his presence only because they believed his marriage with Madara to be a happy one. A deception he hated as much as they surely did.

Distracted as he was by the same thoughts that had so often plagued him over the past four months since arriving in this forsaken village, he very nearly didn’t noticed the small underdeveloped chakra signature barreling towards him, weaving through the legs of the few other people out at this hour. There was just enough time to stop in his tracks and provide a barrier for the small body before him to crash against instead of continuing forward where his bent knee would probably have crushed that delicate sternum without effort.

A hush fell over the street, every eye for dozens of feet in all directions watching with baited breath to see what he would do with this child who dared approach him. Tobirama looked down at the boy now splayed on his rump and bit the inside of his cheek to resist a smile.

“Ow,” the boy groaned. Then he looked up and both of his eyes widened with awe. “Hey, you’ve got no color!”

Tobirama stared back. “No, I haven’t,” he agreed. Children had a knack for spouting truths that adults were too polite to say and it never failed to amuse him.

“Where did all your color go?”

“I wasn’t born with any.”

“Oh. Where’s the rest of your Sharingan?”

“I don’t have a Sharingan.” Tobirama tilted his head and opened his eyes a little wider so the child could see that there were no hints of the tomoe. It made him feel a little bit like a psychopath since his eyes were naturally quite narrow and contributed a great deal to what Touka liked to call his ‘resting bitch face’. “I was not born an Uchiha. My eyes got all the color, I guess.”

The child laughed and Tobirama let his eyes narrow back to a point where he felt less like a serial killer asking for souls to eat. He could still feel many other pairs of eyes watching their conversation but several people had gone back to what they were doing, which was a relief.

“You’re pretty cool.”

Blinking slowly, Tobirama furrowed his brow and asked without thinking, “Are you sure?” He very nearly flushed when someone nearby tittered with poorly concealed amusement. The boy, at least, nodded happily.

“Uh-huh! I’m Kagami! What’s your name? Mom says that everyone in the compound is family and you’re in the compound so you’re family too. Will you teach me a jutsu? Do you know any cool jutsu? I want to learn all the coolest biggest jutsu so I can be super impressive just like Madara-sama!” He chattered on and on while Tobirama continued to stare at him wordlessly, long passed the point when the last of their suspicious audience finally gave up on waiting for him to do something stupid or cruel.

“Ah, it’s very nice to meet you Kagami but I have somewhere I intended to be.” Eventually he was forced to interrupt the ceaseless flow of words, though it made him feel a bit bad to do so. To his surprise the child only grinned impossibly wider.

“Okay! Wait, you didn’t tell me your name!”

“Tobirama. I am…I am Madara-sama’s husband.”

Kagami clapped both hands to his cheeks. “Oh no! Kaachan says I’m supposed to behave super well around you ‘cause you’re super important and stuff! Uh, I don’t know what to- um, should I bow!?” He flustered and worried in the most adorable way until Tobirama took pity on the poor thing.

“No, you needn’t bow, little one. You may come with me if you like. Ah…if your mother would allow that. Is she here to ask?”

“It’s okay! Kaachan says I can go wherever I want as long as there’s someone I trust with me! If you’re married to Madara-sama then of _course_ I trust you!”

“Mn. Of course.” It was lucky a child so young wouldn’t understand the bitter twist in his words. He wasn’t entirely sure any Uchiha mother would feel comfortable handing their child over in to his care but a part of him could not have cared less. Whoever she was, she couldn’t say much about it since he technically ranked higher in their clan by virtue of marrying the first clan heir and the illogical petty part of him sort of wanted to show them all that he _could_ watch the child just fine – that Kagami could even have fun in his care.

Determined, suddenly more irritated than usual with the idiots in this clan he was now forced to publicly claim as his own, Tobirama nodded in satisfaction to see Kagami bounce over to his side and break out in a flood of curious questions about where they were going and what they were doing. In actuality Tobirama had planned on little more than putting together the equipment that arrived today for the laboratory he’d set up in Touka’s basement. His cousin lived alone and she’d been more than willing to give up the unused space to allow him somewhere he could make his own, somewhere he didn’t have to feel like he was playing a part while the whole world looked on with judging eyes.

He had no idea whether Madara realized where he disappeared to during the hours he wasn’t at the administration tower but he had a feeling his husband cared very little as long as they didn’t have to see each other. Each time they crossed paths in public they were forced to assume the façade of a happy couple, something neither of them enjoyed. It was easier and much less painful to simply avoid that burning chakra as much as he could.

Kagami, at least, seemed thrilled to have someone who was willing to listen to his endless chatter, pattering along at his side all the way to the Senju compound where most of the clan hardly noticed his little guest, long used to the way children seemed to follow after him like magnets. It went a long way to lifting his mood as he disarmed the various traps and seals placed around the wooden doors leading down in to Touka’s cellar and when he ushered Kagami in ahead of him he was almost surprised to find a smile on his face. There had been precious little for him to smile about since the day he was married and subsequently ruined said marriage as well; it was nice to have something remind him, even if only for one afternoon, that this entire village had not been built for his sake. The purpose had been to keep the next generations safe and give them a place where they could grow without fear of cutting their lives short too soon.

It turned out that having Kagami along was a blessing in other ways as well. Some of the equipment would have been much more difficult to assemble without another pair of eager hands willing to hold the pieces in place for him to secure them together. Nearly a decade of helping to train the youths of his own clan had him automatically cataloguing how efficiently Kagami used his body and the impressive strength he possessed for his age, the way he knew how to brace his legs and the inventive ways he used to steady his arms when he was asked to keep something from moving. Given the right training he would flourish in to a brilliant shinobi despite the hyperactivity and Tobirama was already halfway through drafting a schedule for which basics to cover first before he remembered that it wasn’t his job to train the mite.

Which was a pity. Training the young ones had always been an excellent way for him to relax and he got along surprisingly well with Kagami considering the clan he came from.

The two of them passed a pleasant day together fiddling with various things in his lab even long after the equipment he’d been delivered was set up and ready to go. Kagami was as curious as any young child and Tobirama was only too willing to answer his questions, happy to encourage even the slightest interest in science. It was always nice to have someone willing to listen to him blather on about one of his greatest passions even if he couldn’t talk about anything much more complicated than mentioning that certain compounds exploded when mixed together. That was still more than most people cared to listen to.

Not that he blamed them, really. A great deal of shinobi were raised with the belief that the only tool they needed was their body. Only those who showed a significant amount of intelligence or unexpected proficiency in something were culled out of the front line fighters to be trained for anything else, leaving the rest uneducated but well trained for the battles that, until now, remained more important than anything else. Tobirama was lucky to have been born in to the head family of his clan. If he hadn’t then he likely would never have been given the leeway to pursue his love of science – and therefore would never have invented half of the things he had gifted the world with in his time, seals and jutsu and theories for advancements in engineering. A hobby it might be but he was too much of a shinobi himself not to find a way to be useful even when he was enjoying himself.

When it finally came time for Kagami to head home for dinner Tobirama was almost startled to find they had whiled away so many hours without truly doing anything. He felt a little guilty for not working on the seal he’d meant to continue researching, though if he went in to the office after dinner he could get a head start on tomorrow’s paperwork to free up some time for it then. There wasn’t anything wrong with taking a personal day every once in a while but he really hadn’t meant to today.

After seeing the boy off Tobirama wandered upstairs to raid Touka’s fridge. He was foiled by how empty it was and it took a few moments of bewildered staring to remember that his cousin was away on a diplomatic envoy to the Land of Tea. With a shrug he let the door swing closed and headed out the back door, hopping over the fence and up another back porch in to Hashirama’s house instead.

“Tobi, is that you?” Hashirama’s head peeked around the corner of the living room. “An interesting time for a social call. Shouldn’t you be having dinner at home right now?” Pausing for a moment to lift his eyebrows in derision for the very thought, Tobirama snorted and continued on to the kitchen.

“I haven’t eaten dinner in that house in weeks,” he grumbled, something his brother should well know. By some miracle he refrained from making a snarky statement about how much he did _not_ consider that place his home. Hashirama still sighed at him as though he’d done something wrong.

“Still having troubles getting along, huh?”

Tobirama rolled his eyes and pulled a bit of cold chicken out of the fridge. “Troubles getting along. Hmph. You make it sound like we’re children who refuse to play nice, like he pulled my hair or something.” He bit in to the chicken with vicious teeth and tried to imagine in was Madara’s neck he was savaging. Except not in the sexy way he’d been thinking about on their wedding night before the whole thing turned sour. To this day he didn’t understand what the big deal was; they were married and married people had sex, it was a well-known tradition that such acts occurred on the night of the ceremony, so he had no idea what the whole victim act had been about.

Besides, wasn’t Madara older than him? Who ever heard of a twenty-two year old virgin?

“You know that the stability of this peace rests on both of your shoulders,” Hashirama reminded him unnecessarily.

“Thank you, I had forgotten that in the five minutes it’s been since the last time you felt the need to throw it in my face.” Hearing the same thing over and over was doing nothing to help him feel welcome and he was starting to rethink his decision to seek free food. Maybe it would have been better to go buy something from the market.

Ignoring the exasperated look his brother gave him, he polished off the hunk of chicken he’d liberated and popped the fridge open for another, making certain to look the other man dead in the eye as he did so just to be clear about how little he appreciated this conversation. His attitude got him no more than a pair of narrowed eyes and two hands propped on sturdy hips. At least Hashirama’s marriage seemed to be going well judging by the way he appeared to have picked up a few habits from his bride. That was definitely the stance Mito took when she was irritated.

“Please little brother, I’m being serious.”

“Miracles never cease.”

“Tobi! Don’t mock me, this is important! Your marriage _has_ to stay together. Can’t you just try a little harder? For me?”

“Excuse me?” Tobirama left off licking his fingers clean and lowered them to glare at the man across the room. “Try a little harder? I’d like to see you go live with that animal! Never in my life have I met someone so ready to fight over the simplest, stupidest things! Try a little harder. Hah! Would you like me to lick his boots and grovel at his feet too?”

Wrapping himself up in anger was much easier than allowing his expression to show how deeply that simple question had cut him. As if he wasn’t trying! It was his duty to try, to be the best husband that he could, but he wasn’t the one making things difficult. That was Madara and his delicate nature and his close minded absurdity, freaking out each time Tobirama tried to touch him until he had eventually been forced to stop trying all together. How was he meant to make progress when he had apparently been married off to a stone wall?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hashirama said, waving his concerns aside as easily as if they were nothing.

“That is usually a statement reserved for _you_.” Clenching his fists, Tobirama spun on his heel and headed down the hallway, going back the way he came. He had no desire to stay and listen to such idiocy when clearly Hashirama was in no mood to listen to him in turn.

“You can’t run away from it forever, Tobi,” Hashirama called after him.

The slamming of the back door was all the answer Tobirama gave. Try harder indeed! He knew his duties just as well as every other Senju of significant rank, had been trained for the inevitability of a political marriage since he was old enough to understand what duty meant. If this marriage fell apart then it would surely be Madara’s fault for rebuffing each and every one of his efforts to play his role.

But, of course, it would all come down on Tobirama’s head when that happened. That was just the way things had been going for him ever since this stupid village had been proposed.


	4. Chapter 4

Madara watched the birds nesting in the tree outside his kitchen window and wondered for the thousandth time why he, of all people, had to be the one deprived of such a happy family. It should have been him returning home to small voices all crying happily for his attention. Granted he had done quite a bit of thinking in the time since he’d gotten married and he was fairly certain his tastes truly did lay within his own gender but that shouldn’t have stopped him from choosing the right man to adopt with, to raise children with, to build a proper home with.

Instead he’d been forced in to a loveless contract with a man that felt nothing at all. Tobirama’s face remained consistently devoid of any emotion save for when he was angry and even then he exhibited inhuman self-control. It simply wasn’t natural. Madara still had trouble believing he was expected to spend the rest of his life with an animated statue lying next to him at night.

Although to be honest he had very little proof that Tobirama did return to the bed every night. The cold bastard always waited until he was sure Madara was asleep to come lay down and he was gone again before the sun had properly risen each morning. It stopped Madara from having to deal with that unfairly attractive face, though, so it wasn’t like he minded very much. Were they not forced in to this sham without consent and maybe if he hadn’t known Tobirama lacked any sort of personality it was possible he might have developed a crush on the other for his looks alone but knowing how empty that pretty face was made such notions impossible now.

If it weren’t for the few and far between mornings when he woke up just in time to see a shadowed figure leaving their bedroom he might sometimes be inclined to believe he had hallucinated their farce of a union. Madara closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm the anger that rose again as he remembered the now-familiar scene he had watched through his cracked eyelids only a few days before. Someday in the future he would be the head of his clan. How was he supposed to hold his head up with pride and keep the confidence of his people when his own husband refused to wear their clan symbol? The man could deny it all he wanted but Tobirama counted as an Uchiha now; his continued insistence on covering himself with the Senju mon was not only an insult to Madara personally, it was an insult to everyone around him. It was also a much too obvious sign of their lack of harmony, a way for just about anyone to tell that they weren’t exactly a tightly knit couple, and just thinking about one of their fathers catching on to what was happening left Madara feeling cold with anxiety.

The very thought of the threatening lecture he would have to listen to and the accusations that this all must be his own fault had him scowling deeper and reaching for the coffee pot to refill his cup. No one should ever have to deal with an angry Tajima without caffeine to bolster their spirits, not even when it was just inside their own heads.

Since today was his day off when he was not expected to show his face at the tower where the village was mostly run by a council made up of the heads from each of the clans currently living together, Madara was allowed to finish his coffee in a leisurely fashion before trotting out in to the backyard for a quick bit of exercise. Afterwards he puttered around the house cleaning all the small messes that tended to get left behind by a man too busy during the work week to deal with them. Most of it was easy, just a pile of clothes in the wrong place or a few dishes he’d been letting soak for too long. Some it was more annoying like cleaning out all the food gone bad in the fridge because he didn’t know how to cook small portions for himself instead of the massive dinners he was used to cooking to feed an entire household.

Izuna, it seemed, had developed the power of reading minds; he showed up just as Madara was questioning his own sanity for actually _missing_ the chore of feeding such a bottomless stomach. Ruffling his older brother’s hair in place of a greeting, he flopped down in the closest kitchen chair and grabbed one of the slightly withered apples set out in a bowl on the table.

“Home alone?” he asked knowingly.

“When am I not?” It was hard to keep the bitter tone out of his words but since they were alone anyway Madara didn’t really try very hard. “What do you want brat?”

“Nothing, really. I’ve got a meeting with some of the prospective recruits in an hour to go through some training drills. Thought I’d waste time here until then since I’ve caught up on all that unnecessary paperwork your darling husband insists on.”

Madara pinched his lips together. He wanted to hate that just like he hated everything else about Tobirama but unfortunately he could actually see the man’s point on this. A paper trail was as much of a curse as a blessing but in some cases it was better to have it than not. Starting a new village, the very first attempt in history at merging several different shinobi clans, that was the kind of situation that bred suspicion and fact checking. Now was the time to do everything by the book so that later down the road they had evidence to pull out and wave around in the face of anyone accusing them of not doing their jobs correctly. It was just a pity that Tobirama had been the one to point that out.

Tossing the fridge door closed and tying off the bag of rotten food with a vicious twist, Madara blew the trailing fringe of hair away from his face before growling, “Must be nice to get caught up so easily. It always takes me until noon to clear my desk and then they always bring me more.”

“Any idea where your wayward asshole went today?”

“Not a fucking clue. Who the hell knows where he disappears to? For that matter, who the hell cares?”

“I mean, you’re supposed to,” Izuna pointed out.

“Ugh.” Madara rolled his eyes and hauled the bag up like it was Tobirama’s neck. “I know. But not here. This is _my_ house and I can hate whoever I want when I’m inside these walls. As long as father doesn’t come over for something, I suppose.”

With a nod Izuna crunched in to his apple and spoke around a full mouth. “Kami that must be awkward. He doesn’t expect you guys to kiss or anything still, does he?”

“No, thank the _sage_.”

That had probably been the worst period of his entire life, the expectant looks from his father driving him and Tobirama to trade short reluctant kisses to each other’s cheeks whenever they were caught in the same room together and then waiting for Tajima to turn his back so they could wipe their mouths. Of all people he would have thought his father would understand Madara not warming up to his new ball and chain immediately, him being the one that chained them together, but at times Madara wondered if his father had somehow tricked his own memories in to believing they were a love match. He certainly seemed to expect them to act like one even in private. 

Releasing a heavy sigh, he carried the bag out of the room and down the hall to set it outside at the edge of the porch where it would get picked up that night by whoever pulled sanitation duty. This village had sounded like such a grand dream when it was proposed. He should have known those dreams would lose their shine for someone like him before he’d even really had a chance to appreciate the incredible strides they were taking.

Izuna had picked out another apple when he got back inside and was spinning it between his hands in slow rotations, trying to spot any bruises. As Madara stepped inside and shut the door he replaced it in the bowl.

“Wish I knew how to make this better for you, Aniki. Maybe if we knew what crawled up that albino’s ass we could figure out what his problem is and you guys could at least make a truce.” The apple dropped out of the bowl but Izuna caught it and set it back once more, making sure to find a more secure place to balance it.

“You know what…that’s a good idea.”

“I didn’t give you any ideas.”

“Well I’m blaming this one on you anyway. If I want to find out what his problem is then I need to figure out how his head works. And since I’m not exactly keen to chat with him – I don’t think he’d give anything up if I tried – the next best option is to go to someone who knows him almost as well as he knows himself. Damn, I’m a genius.”

He was already halfway back down the hall when he heard Izuna calling after him, “Wait, I thought you said the idea came from me!”

“Get out of my house! And lock up when you leave!” Madara didn’t bother going back to try and oust the idiot himself. His sibling was as stubborn as he was and he didn’t want to waste the entire day shoving each other back and forth across the kitchen for nothing but stupid pride.

At least the weather was nice as he marched his way through the Uchiha district. Several of his fellow clan members stopped to nod respectfully as he passed and Madara made sure that he acknowledged all of them individually. If he was going to run the clan someday he didn’t want these people to think they were going to be led by a tyrant even if they would now have a higher authority to appeal to. When the position was passed to him he wanted to be _good_ at it. He wanted their respect.

The further away he got from the Uchiha compound the less he encountered people who stopped to pay him their respects. Not that he found it insulting since these weren’t his people and they obviously knew him less, it was just a little disappointing in an oddly selfish way. He wanted to earn respect from others in honest ways but he could admit in the privacy of his own thoughts that he also enjoyed the way it made him feel important to have his kin stop and pay him their dues as he went by. If he wanted that from people other than the clan he’d grown up with then he would need to work twice as hard for it, a task he was more than willing to give his best to. 

Entering the Senju compound, unfortunately, made him feel quite the opposite of important despite all the eyes he could suddenly feel watching him. While he was sure that Tobirama was too proud – and too smart – to tell anyone about their marital discordance, he was still the stranger who had married these people’s secondary heir and spirited him away. None of them knew much about him so he could understand why they watched him so curiously yet never approached. He was also aware of how standoffish he could be so it was also understandable that they weren’t eager to make friends.

Only one among them was that eccentric and that was exactly who he had come to see.

Hashirama’s home was a quaint little thing that hardly befitted a clan heir, though he seemed to like it. According to him he didn’t need much space for just two people and he could always add more rooms with his Mokuton should he and his wife ever have any children. Personally Madara thought that was stupid. A man with power could never afford to let those underneath him completely forget about that power, no matter how affable and open he wanted to be. Being friendly with the members of his clan was one thing, building their trust so they knew they could turn to him if they ever needed to, but letting them think they were on the same level as him could only result in a lack of respect when he needed them to remember their place.

Not that social cues were particularly important to him right at that moment, storming in through the front door without knocking. With a flash of infused chakra he could tell that the man he was looking for was tucked away in the backyard where he had built a little greenhouse to putter around in. He stumped off in that direction immediately.

Mito passed him on her way down the hall, eyes narrowed dangerously though she opted not to say anything about him barging in to their home without an invitation. Not now at least. He was sure the lecture would come later. Hashirama’s wife was not a woman known for holding back her words when someone had displeased her and her wrath was something he had learned to fear within his first couple of visits here. Whatever lecture she was surely already composing in her mind he would get her get it out, solemnly promise to change his ways, and probably do the same thing all over again the next time he came over because he might fear her but that wasn’t something he wanted her to ever find out.

As a half-assed sort of peace offering he made sure not to slam the back door when he stormed outside and made his way across to the greenhouse. Hashirama’s backyard was surprisingly barren for a man who enjoyed flora so much, nothing but well-trimmed grass covering the fenced area between main house and greenhouse, not even a single flower bed or wild bush. The front of their home was decorated with perfectly manicured bushes which Mito apparently cared for, two to bloom in every season, but the rest of the man’s flora was kept under cover where he could spend hours at a time tending and trimming as he liked without ever having to worry about the weather.

When Madara stepped inside he found Hashirama bent over a row of flowers he had no name for, probably something exotic brought in by one of the other clans as a gift, but his friend stood up with a brilliant smile to greet him right away.

“Well hello there, I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” he said. “Didn’t you mention you wanted to spend your day off relaxing at home? Is Tobi there? I’ve been meaning to come around for a visit.”

“No he’s not there. Your cretin sibling is never there when I am; it’s one of the only good things about him.” Madara curled his upper lip in a sneer that he wiped away just as quickly at a disapproving look from Hashirama. For all that the man’s wife was scary in an obvious bodily harm sort of way, Hashirama was scarier in that he had a way of making you actually feel bad for the things you said. A terrible power, really.

“There’s no need to be unkind to someone who isn’t here to defend themselves. I don’t understand why the two of you are having such troubles getting along; I’ve never seen Tobi act like this before.”

“Like what?” Madara demanded. “Like he has no emotions? Because news flash: your brother has no emotions!”

The rant he was about to take off on was cut short before it could even begin when he saw the genuine hurt on Hashirama’s face and winced. He really hadn’t meant to hurt his friend, though he wasn’t sure what he’d said to do so. Surely it couldn’t be actual news to the man that Tobirama was a walking brick wall. The two of them had grown up together, had lived in the same house right up until the village was built. Not even Hashirama could be so blind as to miss something that obvious about a person living under the same roof as him.

Setting down the pruning scissors that Madara hadn’t even seen until he moved his hand, Hashirama wiped dirt from his palms on to a nearby rag before propping both fists on his hips with a disappointed expression more suited for a misbehaving child.

“My brother has just as many emotions as the rest of us! Just because you and I are a little more free with expressing ourselves than others does not mean we feel more than him!” He shook his head and tutted. “A marriage is about work, my friend. I’ll admit Tobi may seem like a little more work than some but he’s very worth it!”

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I highly fucking doubt it.”

Hashirama pinched his lips together thoughtfully.

“This is because you two aren’t having sex, isn’t it?”

“What!?” Madara could feel all the blood draining from his face only to rush back in with a vigor, probably turning his skin a brilliant cherry color. “What the hell, Hashirama!? That is no business of yours!”

“It’s no big deal. I don’t understand why you won’t just sleep with him.” His friend shrugged as though it were perfectly normal to try and hook his own sibling up.

Trying to speak around his utter mortification, Madara hated that his voice came out all squeaky with panic. “It is very much a big deal! I can’t just – just – _just sleep with him_! I barely even know him! He’s just as asshole that happens to sleep in the same space as me and never talks!”

“What does getting to know him have to do with sex?” Hashirama asked. Incredibly, he sounded genuinely confused. Madara stared for a few seconds just to make sure he was serious. He was.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No? I don’t get it. Sex has nothing to do with how well you know each other.”

“Sex has everything to do with how well we know each other! Sex is supposed to be between two people who love each other! It’s an expression of _affection_!” Madara’s arms shot out to wave up and down as though that would help him make his point better. He recognized that he was getting a bit worked up but there was no one else here to see him fall apart, only Hashirama, and although he’d only known the other man for a few months he trusted him completely.

Or at least he did until Hashirama tossed his head back to laugh.

“What?” He crowed. “That’s ridiculous! It’s just a bodily desire, Madara! Are you telling me that you’ve only ever had sex with the people you’ve been in love with? How often do you Uchiha fall in love?” Hashirama’s giggles slowly faded as he took in the utterly mortified expression on his friend’s face. “Madara…have you…have you even had sex at all?”

“No! Of course I haven’t!”

“Oh, wow, I wasn’t expecting that. Why not?” he tilted his head curiously.

Then he jerked his head back when Madara shoved an angry finger in his face. “I just told you! Sex isn’t something you just – that you just – it’s special! Gods above, are all you Senju just out here sleeping with whoever the hell you feel like!?”

“Um…yes?”

“Come again now?” Madara demanded in a low voice.

Hashirama help up both hands in a helpless expression. “It’s just sex, Madara. When we’re married it’s different, I agree with that, married people should stay faithful to each other of course! But before our partner is chosen for us there’s no reason we can’t enjoy ourselves. These desires are natural, after all. Nothing about that is shameful.”

Staring wide-eyed, Madara could hardly believe what he was hearing. Underneath the shock he had to admit that this explained quite a bit about their wedding night and the way Tobirama had acted then. Also the way he reacted when Madara rejected his advances so vehemently.

Not that this was any sort of valid excuse. Maybe the Senju had different values and practices than the Uchiha but he shouldn’t have assumed like an overbearing asshole that his were the more important, that he could just take what he wanted without first making sure Madara was comfortable or even on the same page at all. Which he very much wasn’t! Even if he had known that Tobirama and the Senju as a whole viewed sex so casually that wouldn’t have negated the fact that he still had his own values!

Unable to even _begin_ with the sheer idiocy of just sleeping around with all and sundry before marriage, Madara chose to focus on the other part of this he didn’t get.

“So you all really just wait for your marriage to be arranged by someone else?” he demanded.

“Well yes.” To his frustration Hashirama shrugged casually as though it were no big deal. “It’s tradition in our clan for the parent to find a match for their child. Usually the matches are based on social status and compatibility but some people still hold to the old ways of breeding for stronger soldiers.”

“And that doesn’t _bother_ you!? What kind of life is that? I can’t imagine not loving my – well. I suppose I _can_ imagine not loving my spouse and, let me tell you, it’s awful. I can’t believe your entire clan subjects themselves to this loveless existence willingly.” Madara did his best to inject as much scorn as possible in to his voice to make sure Hashirama fully understood how upsetting he found this.

“Oh, no, it’s not like that at all! Of course we love our spouses!”

Lifting both eyebrows Madara shook his head. “You just told me that you don’t marry for love! Now you’re contradicting yourself so which is it?”

Hashirama smiled at him and it made him snarl, one of those softly condescending smiles that a parent might give to a child who is asking questions about something they should really know about already. He very much did not appreciate that look. In no way did he feel he had earned that look.

“Marriage isn’t just something you fall in to, my friend, whether you marry for love or by arrangement. We allow our children the freedom to explore themselves until it comes time to settle down and then it becomes their duty to make the marriage a success. A relationship is something you work at, something that takes a lot of effort.” Looking over in the general direction of his own house, Hashirama’s smile turned gentle. “Just because my marriage was arranged for me doesn’t mean that I don’t love my wife very much. I’m glad that she was chosen for me; I can’t imagine anyone else in her place.”

“It just…doesn’t seem fair.” Madara sighed deeply. He didn’t have the words to express how deeply it cut that he wasn’t allowed the chance to marry _because _he loved his partner. The idea of working to fall in love was something he just couldn’t wrap his head around, it made no sense to him. Maybe he was missing some key component here but the subject was rapidly depressing him and he realized he was quite done discussing this.

Of all the insights Hashirama had to share about his brother’s behavior, Madara hadn’t expected them to involve anything as deep as this. The rest of their discussion could wait for another time. All the energy from his previous anger was quickly draining away to leave him feeling empty and cold. Instead of being comforted by understanding his husband a little better he felt more discouraged than ever, almost to the point of feeling truly hopeless. The two of them were nothing alike with no common ground. What kind of life could they possibly build together if they couldn’t see eye to eye on anything? No life. Or at least not a happy one.

“Whatever. Forgot your idiot brother. Just…tell me about your plants or something.”

He regretted that as soon as he said it. Hashirama’s eyes lit up and words were tumbling over each other to leave his mouth a moment later, some rambling explanation of where the flower in front of him originated and how it had adapted to grow in warmer climates. Madara turned away but the chatter continued to wash over him no matter how disinterested he looked. He really should have known enough to choose any other kind of distraction than setting Hashirama’s motor mouth loose.

At least he accomplished what he’d been looking for. By the time five minutes had gone by Madara wasn’t thinking of Tobirama at all and the problems in his home life slipped away to be mulled over another time.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was barely up over the horizon when Tobirama slipped passed the wards around his brother’s home and let himself in through one of the living room windows. It was always easier to figure out which window Hashirama had forgotten to lock the night before – because he always forgot to lock at least one window, the forgetful clod – than it was to spend fifteen minutes picking his way through the seals Mito left on their doors overnight. He wanted to find breakfast, not to get his face fried off.

Once inside he made sure to keep his footsteps silent and avoid the creaky parts of the floor that he had memorized in the first week after the house was built as he snuck down the hall to the kitchen. Even without flicking on the light or raising the blinds he still found his way unerringly to the fridge. When it opened he smirked.

Apparently they’d had stew for dinner last night. Which, of course, meant he would be having stew for breakfast this morning. He hadn’t been back here in almost two weeks, not since the last time he attempted to steal their food only to be rebuffed with unwanted reminders of his own failings, so it was only fitting that he reinsert himself in his brother’s life with more food theft. What else were siblings for?

The stove lit easily and Tobirama had already thrown the leftovers in to a pot and heated them up by the time anyone else in the house made it out of bed. Mito found him hunkered over the stove with a spoon eating his meal out of the pot like an uncivilized beast. Long used to such early morning displays, her only acknowledgement of his presence was a quiet hum and a soft reminder that he had agreed to accompany her for lunch that afternoon. He nodded but chose not to answer with his mouth full. Some manners were just too important to cast aside.

Hashirama stumbled in fifteen minutes later with his hair still in disarray and his pants on backwards, fingers reaching for the coffee pot and then pausing just when they reached the handle, staring blearily down at the empty insides with a sad little pout of betrayal.

“Someone drank my coffee,” he complained.

“You haven’t made any yet, dear.” Mito calmed sipped her own cup while Tobirama hid his amusement by shoving more stew in his face and heading over to take a seat.

“Oh. I should make coffee. Need coffee.”

“What an excellent idea.” Mito took another sip. “You go ahead and make some coffee for everyone.”

He nodded and fumbled for the beans with one hand while his other snatched up the grinder. Tobirama watched him as he ambled around poking his head aimlessly in to cupboards until finally the coffee was done and he settled at the table with a mug and an apple. Such a healthy breakfast for the one who would lead their clan someday.

Both Tobirama and Mito paused when Hashirama saw her mug steaming away right next to his own – and then did their best to cover their laughter when he grinned, still half asleep.

“Oh wow, you got that so fast I didn’t even see you pour it!”

Mito chose not to comment on that. Once Hashirama had consumed his first cup of coffee and made it about halfway through the second he was much more alert, enough so that he was able to prattle on about all the things he planned to do that day, asking both of their advice on how to handle the meeting he had with Butsuma later. As heir he was required to spend a certain amount of time with his father learning how to perform his future duties but ever since the village had been built it was growing harder for Hashirama to separate the duties he should be learning and the duties Butsuma was trying to slip in without anyone else’s notice.

Their father had ever been an ambitious man. Peace and the protection of life may have been the original motive behind creating this village with the Uchiha but the more Butsuma worked side by side with Uchiha Tajima the more it became clear that his ambitions were rearing their head once more. Hashirama was finding it harder and harder to keep his mouth shut as he slowly realized that Butsuma wanted _him_ to become the sole leader of Konohagakure someday, no matter that it was ruled by oligarchy right now. He listened calmly to both of their suggestions on what to do when Butsuma started trying to nudge him in a direction he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with, thanking them both for their help. Then he cast about for a change of subject and Tobirama narrowed his eyes suspiciously when that bright gaze landed on him.

“What?” he asked flatly.

“Nothing! It’s just-”

“So it’s something, then.”

Hashirama gave him a frustrated look with Mito smiled.

“I was speaking with Madara the other day, just after I saw you actually, and from what he was saying I gather that things between you two are much worse than I thought.”

“Oh for- not this shit again.” Tobirama rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair, aware that he probably looked like a moody adolescent but since he was still only nineteen he didn’t particularly care. Nor did he care for the reprimanding finger Hashirama was shaking at him over the table. Just when he thought it was finally safe to come back here, the first thing he got was a lecture on the same subject that drove him away before.

“Don’t do that, we need to talk about it! And more importantly: you need to talk to Madara! I know you two got off on the wrong foot but he really is a good person, I promise you would see that if you just took a little time to get to know him.”

“Look”-Leaning forward again, Tobirama took a turn pointing across the table-“keep your nose out of my marriage. Just because yours turned out all sunshine and rainbows doesn’t mean it’s that easy for everyone else. Madara wasn’t chosen to be compatible for me, _I_ was chosen for_ him_ because I was still unmarried and that is the only reason! We don’t work and we never will!”

Hashirama frowned in a way that made him look disturbingly like their mother and drew himself up in his seat, regal despite his early morning state. “Giving up won’t help anything. You need to do better than that, Tobirama.”

“Excuse me?” Even Mito winced at the ice in Tobirama’s tone but Hashirama did not back down.

“I said you need to do better! Try harder, any kind of effort at all! You know as well as anyone why this marriage has to work but you don’t even seem to be trying anymore! It’s been four months and things only continue to get worse. Maybe if you made an effort to see things from Madara’s point of view-”

“Maybe you can kiss my ass! Why should I be the one to put in all the effort? He’s the one that – no. No. You know what? Fuck you. Thanks for the stew, now don’t fucking talk to me for the rest of the week unless you somehow managed to get your head out from your own ass. Mito, I’ll see you at lunch. Don’t bring your husband.” Tobirama sent his brother the best sneer in his repertoire as he hurled himself away from the table and stormed out of the kitchen.

Ignoring the offended voice calling after him he slammed out the front door, almost daring the seal wards to try something even though he knew that Mito could deactivate them from a distance and had probably done so the moment he stood up. Never in his life had he been more angry, more insulted, never had he felt so _betrayed_ in all his life. Hashirama was his brother and by rights that should mean he was on Tobirama’s side. Yet here he was listening to some asshole neither of them had known as more than rumors until a couple of months ago instead of his own flesh and blood.

Yes it was his duty to put effort in to this marriage and make it work. Hashirama was not wrong about that. But was it so hard to understand that he already _had_ made his efforts and grown tired of being rebuffed? For a sympathetic man Hashirama could be supremely hardheaded at times. He was starting to sound like their father.

So angry was he that Tobirama had made it almost halfway across the village before he slowed to ask himself where the hell he was actually going. He couldn’t go home, of course, because in his mind he had no home anymore. All he had was a place to rest his head at night while praying the hostile man beside him chose not to use the kunai he knew damn well was hidden underneath the pillow beside his own. This wasn’t his day off so technically he should have been heading for the administration tower but there was still another hour before anyone could say he was actually late for anything and he would rather spend as little time as possible away from any place he might run in to Madara. That really only left two places for him to go and it wasn’t a hard choice between them since they were actually located one on top of the other.

Turning on his heel, he headed back towards the Senju district at the same pace he had run away from it.

At least this time he didn’t have to slip through any windows, letting himself in through Touka’s front door with the knowledge that she had keyed him in to her wards when she first set them up. His cousin was already sitting in her living room with a half empty mug of tea beside her and her sketchbook spread out across her lap. Tobirama felt a tiny sliver of his anger slip away at the welcome sight of her; if he were anyone else he knew damn well that she would have sent that sketchbook flying at his head and denied that she’d ever set pencil to it herself. Not many people knew what a good artist Touka was, though that was mostly because she didn’t trust very many people to see what she used as a method of deeply personal self-expression.

Most Senju were pretty crap at expressing themselves so it wasn’t like she was alone in that. As a whole they tended to scoff at the fact that they had somehow been nicknamed the Clan of Love. Emotions were meant to be private things, expressed only to those one was close to. Hashirama was an incredible exception, tossing his emotions in every direction without a hint of shame for his uncouth openness, but his intentions were so genuine that not many among them had the heart to tell him off for going against their traditions with such garish behavior.

Still dragging her pencil across the page in long arcs, Touka jerked her chin absently at the couch across from her own seat, waiting until Tobirama had flopped down before looking up and spinning the sketchbook to show him an incredibly detailed rendition of an eagle in flight.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“I think I’m jealous,” Tobirama grumbled. “Your bird gets to just pick up and leave whenever it wants. Must be nice.”

Touka hummed and didn’t even bother to guess at what he was talking about, something he was very grateful for. Without further reaction she spun the book around again and bent closer to add more detailing in the feathers. “I got a package in the mail today.”

“Fascinating,” he replied in a deadpan voice.

“Not many places sell this color of purple ink, rare ingredients and all that. I was planning to use it for the finishing touches on the mural I’ve been working on in my bedroom but if it’s required somewhere else…” Her eyes flickered up to meet his own. “You know I’m always willing to take part in a good prank if I’m needed.”

“Ah. That’s not necessary but it’s generous of you to offer.”

She nodded and they both pretended not to know the truth underneath her vague words, the offer to protect him, to support him in the face of whatever barrier he had run up against this time. Tobirama loved his brother more than life itself but it was his eldest cousin that he would name as the one he was closest to. It was Touka to whom he had run when he was young and trying to understand the world. She was the one who had guided him when his own father was too busy with his first son to pay attention to the second.

“Will you be attending the meeting later for the new security outline?” he asked, desperate for something new to occupy his mind.

“Nope. It’s confidential now. Dear old Butsuma doesn’t think it beneficial to let his security officers in on the whole plan for whatever reason. Apparently all we need to know is our place.” Touka rolled her eyes and Tobirama sneered.

“It gets harder and harder every year to pretend I don’t hate him.”

“Your brother still loves him,” his cousin pointed out.

Dragging both hands down the sides of his face, Tobirama sighed. “Yeah well Hashirama feels too much for too many people and he’s never understood what it means to not forgive.”

Touka snorted.

“Besides, I’m not particularly interested in what Hashirama does or doesn’t feel right now. The moment he gets his overly large nose out of my life then I might be inclined to give a damn but until then…hn. I’ll be downstairs.” Tobirama offered a perfunctory wave on his way passed the couch, to which Touka replied with the same.

“Don’t forget to come back up for work,” she called after him.

He made it all the way down the stairs before snarling and turning around to storm back up to the first floor where he intercepted Touka just as she was getting up, presumably to go get ready for the day herself. “If you’re not going to the meeting then who is?”

“You’re not going to like it…” The look of understanding pity in her eyes told him all he needed to know but still he asked again.

“Just say it. Who is going to the meeting in your place? There has to be _someone_ to represent the security officers or at least to pass on the orders.” Something his father had said in passing several days before came back to him and he waited with horror to hear what he realized he already knew. The security teams were all set up to be equals; the only way any one person could be chosen to stand above the others was if someone were finally put in charge of that division as Tobirama had been advocating for over the past month.

“I’m sorry little cousin but the news only came in after you left the office last night. Your husband has been named the new Head of Security. There was talk about a centralized police force that would report back to him as well but nothing solid yet.”

“Those were _my ideas_,” Tobirama ground out from between clenched teeth. “My fucking ideas and they give it all to _him_ like some prize he hasn’t earned!”

Without anything constructive to say, Touka chose to shrug helplessly and say nothing. Tobirama appreciated that. Empty platitudes wouldn’t help him and they both knew that. With a snort of disgust he turned away and waved for his cousin to go about her day, heading off towards the front door instead of the lab as he had planned to. If he was to find no peace in any of the places he thought would afford him a pleasant morning then he might as well channel his misery and get a head start on some of the endless paperwork waiting on his desk in the tower.

At the very least the weather was pleasant, one small mercy after such an awful start so early in the day. Tobirama appreciated the lack of screaming winds that had plagued their village the day before as he stomped down side roads and kicked rocks through back alleys. It was always best to get his temper out as much as possible before showing up to perform his duties. His own father wasn’t the only set of eyes watching every move that happened in the tower; Tajima never exactly activated his Sharingan but the sharpness of his gaze always left one with the impression that he remembered everything he saw anyway. It was actually pretty creepy. When they all first got together Tobirama had thought perhaps Tajima would be reasonable enough to balance out his father but the more he worked with the man the more he despaired.

Both clan heads were exact echoes of each other, both of them born with blades in their hands and bellies that hungered for the blood of their enemies. Both cursed with such a lust for battle that when no enemies stood before them they simply created new ones in unexpected places. A terrible partnership that was bound to fray at the edges, leaving the next generation to repair what they could when the time came.

The rage burning inside him had cooled down to at least a simmer instead of a raging inferno by the time he drew close to the tower but Tobirama was stopped just before he stepped out on to the main street, falling back in to the shadows when he spotted Madara up ahead. Seeing the man who stood at the center of all his worst personal problems certainly did nothing to help him put a lid on his anger but Tobirama was a true Senju and well trained in the art of self-control. He forced himself to keep still and watch as Madara stopped walking to look behind himself as though hearing someone call his name.

Kagami’s curls were easy to identify by their bounce alone even without the megawatt smile on his face as he stumbled to a halt at his clan heir’s feet, bouncing on small toes and swinging his arms forward and back restlessly. Watching them, Tobirama felt his heart wither a little. He’d run in to Kagami again twice since the first time they met and the boy had taken quite a shine to him. Some part of him had started hoping he could slip in a bit of training under the radar and maybe lay the foundations for a teacher and student relationship before anyone else caught on, earning the boy’s trust while at the same time finally finding a way to appease those around him with a grand show of good will. Surely the Uchiha as a whole would ease up on their distrust of him if he could demonstrate how willing he was to be kind to one of their young.

Now those half-baked plans seemed like so many wasted daydreams. If the boy was close to Madara then there was much less chance of any potential training slipping under everyone’s noses until he was ready for others to know. As if this fucking idiot wasn’t already ruining every other aspect of Tobirama’s life already, here he was worming his way in to yet another one.

With a derisive snort Tobirama folded his arms and leaned against the brick wall beside him to wait until Madara was farther away. Public interactions and all the forced good will that came with them were far beyond his patience at the moment so instead he settled in to watch as Madara listened to whatever Kagami had to say with a surprisingly patient expression. If anything he would have thought Madara to start tapping his toes and checking the position of the sun, not to bend down and laugh at something the child had said before ruffling dark curls in a manner one would expect of an older brother or a beloved relative. Tobirama couldn’t think of a single person other than Hashirama who had ever dared to try and ruffle his own hair.

Instead of coming away from the experience terrified and sad Kagami launched himself forward to deliver a quick hug to Madara’s waist, the tallest part he could reach, and then hurtled off down the street at breakneck speeds, weaving in and out of people’s legs without a care in the world for all the misconceptions he’d just defied. Tobirama watched him go and turned his eyes back to see Madara smiling ever so slightly as he continued on his way towards his own office.

Stupid idiot with his stupid cheerful mood. One act of kindness did not mean he was suddenly a good person. Tobirama sneered and spun on his heel to walk back to the other end of the alley he’d been hiding in. No one would notice if he took a slightly longer route to work today. It seemed he was going to need a little more time to settle his thoughts after bearing witness to a scene that had almost convinced him Madara might not actually be the devil walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only another chapter of stupidity left before they start actually talking. I did warn y'all this was a slooow burn!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I promise this is the last of the idiocy before they finally talk lol

Some mornings Madara wondered why he even bothered getting out of bed, days when every little thing seemed to go wrong for him no matter what he tried to do until eventually he began to wonder if maybe some god had taken a disliking to him and decided this was to be his fate, eternal frustration over things that made him feel ridiculous for getting frustrated about it. Catching his foot in the blanket on his way out of bed wouldn’t have been anywhere near as big a deal if he hadn’t also tripped and cracked his nose on the bedroom floor. Dropping a bit of eggshell in to his omelet was already awful but of course he also had to knock over the salt shaker and spill half the contents over his would-be breakfast. Missing a throw to the waste bin wasn’t always terrible; it was when he was trying to toss out rotten food gone moldy.

Things continued like that all the way out of the house and across town to the administration tower, bad luck following him right in to the office he shared with Hashirama. Publicly the reason they shared an office was to show that even unmarried people between the two clans could get along and work together but privately they both knew it was because the building could only be so big before it got ridiculous and so many different bodies needed to work inside each day that it simply wasn’t practical to give every single person their own four walls.

Within five minutes of sitting down at his desk Madara had already knocked over his pencil cup, signed his name on the wrong paper without reading it, and dropped two different folders on the floor that scattered their contents absolutely everywhere. At that point it was only Hashirama’s presence that kept him from immolating the entire room.

“Rough start to the day?” his friend asked him. Madara snorted.

“A rough start to the day would mean I accidentally slept in or maybe burned the eggs a little. This was an absolute shit start to a day that promises to only get shittier.”

Kicking out halfheartedly at one leg of his desk, Madara was honestly and truly surprised it didn’t snap under the blow and send all of his possessions cascading sideways. With the way his morning had gone so far that sort of thing would just fit right in. He grumpily began to pick everything up and sort the mess of papers back in to the right folders until Hashirama came around to his side of the room with a small box held out between both hands.

“Would a cookie make you feel better?” he asked, giving Madara pause as he peered curiously in to the small tin like he’d been handed a ray of hope.

“If you ever offer me a cookie and I say no then take my temperature because I’m probably sick.” They looked like gingerbread, one of his absolute favorite cookies, so he made sure to select the biggest one he could see. The moment he bit in to it his eyes fluttered closed. “Oh sweet gods above us. When you get home tell Mito I will give her whatever she wants if she’ll make me a batch of these for my own.”

“Oh Mito didn’t make them. Tobi did!” Hashirama beamed and picked out another cookie, leaving it on the corner of the desk before trotting back to his own.

Madara stopped chewing to look at the snack between his fingers with light disgust. “Ah. I didn’t realize these were forged in the fires of hell. And since when does he bake? I’ve never even seen him cook so much as miso soup.”

“You’ll never see him do anything if the two of you don’t ever spend any time together,” Hashirama said. His eyebrows were in a judgmental expression that Madara really should have expected.

“Drop it,” he growled.

His friend did as he asked with a heavy sigh and an exaggerated shrug, enough to tell Madara that he might be dropping it for now but in no way was this the end of the conversation. Now scowling deeply at having his tiny ray of hope extinguished by the unnecessary mention of his unwanted husband, Madara scowled as he forced himself to concentrate on his work. The cookie in his hand felt tainted now that he knew where it had come from. He did still eat it though, as well as the other one Hashirama had left for him; they were good cookies and he wasn’t about to let that go to waste just because they were baked by a total jerk.

It did seem a pity though. If this talent for baking had been gifted to someone friendlier then maybe that person would have had more people to share their goodies with than just one brother.

Grumpy about being tricked in to enjoying the devil’s cookies, Madara refused to be the one to start up a conversation for the rest of the morning. Unfortunately this firm stance backfired on him when it became clear that today was one of the rare days Hashirama actually focused on his work instead of looking for any and all distractions to put it off. The two of them spent several hours in silence, papers rustling and drawers rattling as they both worked their way through the never ending piles of useless forms and proposals that no one was ever going to do more than skim through. It wasn’t very exciting but it was worlds above the constant tripping and knocking things over that had plagued his first hour or two.

Just before noon Madara gathered an armload of files and tapped them in to a neat pile as he stood from his chair. Hashirama looked up at him with an understanding expression.

“Daily delivery?” he asked. Madara sighed.

“I’d rather get this part of out the way before lunch; if he’s a dick about things then at least I’ll have time to calm down before I have to get back at this shit.”

Hashirama looked down at his own papers and shrugged. “I find it easier to just wait till the end of the day. Then I have Mito to go home to and she always makes me feel better!”

With a roll of his eyes Madara turned away with answering. If that was another attempt to get him talking about his own failure of a marriage then he was absolutely not biting. He would much rather hurry up to the top floor where his father and Senju Butsuma both had private offices on opposite sides of the main council room. Every day he made the trek up here to pass off the most important reports or whatever projects had been recently finished, usually ending their meeting with a lecture of some sort or a demand that Madara spend more time training for the duties he would someday take over as clan Head. As if he didn’t already drown himself in that stuff to keep busy in an empty home.

Tajima was sitting stiffly upright with his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose when Madara let himself in. Clearly the man was confident that his son was alone since he usually kept the reading glasses well out of sight for fear that someone else might see them and think him weakened in any way. Not many outside of the Uchiha clan were aware of just how badly use of the Sharingan affected them.

His father said nothing at first when he set the armful of parchment and scrolls down in the usual spot, leaving Madara with nothing to do but look around at the sparse décor of the office. One wall displayed only two ceremonial swords crossed and hung right behind the man’s head, probably an intimidation tactic for any visitors, but it was offset by the portrait of Tajima and his family that had been commissioned only a month before his first child fell in battle. Madara had studied the image so many times he could recreate it down to the last detail even without use of the perfect recall his dōjutsu granted him. Today his attention went to the woman holding a week old baby Izuna and standing as proudly as any happy matriarch ever had. It was only after her death that Tajima had begun to close himself off from the sons she left behind, living reminders, his grief a testament to the deep love they had shared.

“Why did you agree to this marriage?” The words slipped out before he even had a chance to consider them and Madara barely held in a cringe when he felt Tajima’s gaze lock on to him. Since the question was already out there he swallowed to give himself a moment before clarifying, “Mine, I mean. I was too angry to ask at the time and then it hardly seemed to matter since we had already signed the treaty but…why? I didn’t love him, father. I didn’t even know him.”

“Is it not obvious?” Tajima judged him with a single eyebrow raised in disappointment but Madara held firm in the face of a look he’d been under more and more over the past decade.

“Not to me. Could we not have found a way to bind the clans together without this farce? I mean – our traditions! You had to know that chaining me to that…_him_ would deny me the chance to ever fall in love or find a person I truly wanted to be with.”

Tajima reached up slowly to pluck the slim frames off his nose without moving his expression. “It was necessary.”

“What? That’s it?” Madara stared at his father with lead heavy in his chest and felt like all the air in the room had been sucked away from him. “It was _necessary_?”

“Yes. I considered the needs of one less important than the needs of many. We all must make sacrifices in our lives and I made the decision that this one was worth the gain. Our people are safe and happy, our injury rates are at an all-time low, and what have you suffered for that? A husband who is worthy of your station and strength. You may not have chosen him but mark my words boy I expect you to see this through or I will concentrate on an heir with the intelligence to follow my orders properly.”

Never in his life had Madara fully understood the word betrayal until that moment. He had seen people betray their partners, seen comrades betray their friends, soldiers turning their backs on the clan that raised them, but it had never hurt him personally when until now he had never had a reason to feel the sting in his own heart, sharp and swift.

But this was his father. His very flesh and blood who had tossed him aside like so much trash as easily as saying ‘for the greater good’. It didn’t just sting, it burned deep down in a part of himself that he hadn’t even been aware of until it turned to ash inside his chest. Watching the absolute lack of empathy on his father’s face set his stomach to churning and he realized he felt physically ill to the point where he worried he might upset the contents of his meager breakfast all over the floor beneath him. Something hot and dangerous rose up inside of him until he clenched his fists and determinedly told himself that he would not show weakness here in front of a man who had finally proved once and for all he no longer cared about his sons in any way.

“Thank you for answering my question,” he ground out. “If you will excuse me, I have nothing to report that is not already covered in the files.”

No further prompting was needed for Tajima to return all his attention to whatever he’d been working on before being interrupted. Madara watched him for a split second, unsure why he was bothering to imprint that image in the back of his mind except maybe to torture himself just a little more with the reminder that he had lost his father as surely as he had lost his mother. Then he turned on his heel and left the office with as little fanfare as possible.

With this much rage and emotion filling him, more than even a good Uchiha should be expected to handle, Madara was terribly grateful to have his lunchbreak as an excuse to flee the office. There were very few people he knew might be able to withstand the force of his breakdown who he also trusted to help him stand back up again afterwards. Most of those people were right here in this same building he so desperately needed to escape but there was one to whom he knew he could always turn, someone who had been there for him since he was little more than a toddler learning to hold his very first kunai, and it had been much too long since he last visited her anyway.

Avoiding anyone else who looked even a little bit like they wanted him to stop for a moment, he exited the tower only a couple minutes later and set a quick pace for the Uchiha district. The thundering blood in his veins played double time with his steps until he finally gave in to impatience and took to the rooftops like an undignified boor in a hurry. Usually he had better manners than to clog up the pathways most tried to keep open for the security teams to get around quickly.

The small private market place within their clan grounds was quiet at the moment, just before the lunch hour rush hit the streets, and Madara was glad to see absolutely no one in the building when he stormed in to his favorite bakery, flipping the sign behind himself to declare that the shop was closed. From behind the counter there came the sound of a wooden spoon clattering against a pot but Madara only huffed as strongly as he thought wouldn’t make him vomit.

“I am not in the mood for a scolding, sensei.” His footsteps were loud on the creaky wooden floors as he stomped around the counter to confront the tiny old lady behind.

“What’s got crumbs in your butter, little one?”

He continued to scowl and yet with just a single question already the roiling in his stomach was beginning to settle. Not the hot ball of betrayal in his chest, that refused to shift so much as an inch, but at least he wasn’t in danger of contaminating anything in the bakery.

“Why did he stop loving us?” Madara demanded. Lowering her spoon, Susumu-sensei looked back at him with a bitter kind of understanding dawning on her face. “I am his son! His oldest child! Don’t I deserve to be loved just like everyone else? Don’t I deserve to be happy? How can he take that away from me and not _care_?”

“Ah. This is about–?”

“Of course it’s about my bloody marriage! What else does anyone ever want to talk about lately? Ow! You _bitch_!” Madara cradled the elbow she had just delivered a sharp crack to with her current weapon of choice.

Shaking it under his nose, Susumu-sensei delivered him a fierce glare. “Don’t you be yelling at me for something that stale piece of mold did to you. I won’t stand for the shit he pulls but you know damn well I won’t stand for any disrespect either!”

“Can I not be upset without getting smacked!?”

“I thought you wanted to be happy?” She raised her eyebrows and Madara paused.

At least she didn’t swat him again for rolling his eyes. “Why did I come here?”

“Because you know that I hate him as much as you used to love him. I always have. He loved your mother, there is no one who will deny that, but he was never as open-minded as he would have his children believe. You aren’t the first one he’s tried to sweep under the rug and forget about.”

Madara nodded, letting his eyes flick down the tiny body before him. He knew his teacher’s story well. She hadn’t hesitated to share it when he first asked, just a young lad but already standing taller than her. Barely more than three feet tall, Susumu was born with a type of dwarfism the medics called Hypochondroplasia. She called it ‘my head’s too big and my arms can’t reach’. One of Tajima’s first decrees when he took his place as clan head had been to try and remove her from the field, citing her need to enhance her movement with chakra just to function like any other shinobi as a fatal weakness. Susumu’s revenge had been to befriend the man’s wife and get herself appointed as sensei for his eldest son, going on to raise the strongest fighter their clan had ever seen.

It was a fairly good revenge, actually. Effective in all the right ways. Madara couldn’t remember when it happened but he knew that his affection for Susumu as a parental figure came long before the death of his own mother and the subsequent distance between himself and his father.

“Your marriage,” she murmured. “I can’t say I know what he was thinking when he made that decision. I agree with you that he should never have taken something so sacred from you but–”

“No, no buts!”

“_But_ that is the way of things now. It isn’t ideal. You will still have to make the best of the things you have.”

“I just want the same chance to be happy that everyone else gets!” Madara looked around his feet for something to kick but everything close to him was breakable or needed to stay clean and he wasn’t looking to get smacked with that damn spoon again.

Susumu gave him a pointed look when he finally met her gaze again and gestured openly to her own body. “Do you think I have the same chance of finding love as everyone else? I’m not saying there aren’t a few open minded people out there I might be compatible with but there certainly aren’t as many as I’d like. We all have our difficulties in life, little one. You do indeed have the same chance as everyone to fall in love still, if you think about it. What sets you apart is that you will then be faced with a choice. Do you break your marriage vows, betray the peace between us and the only clan with the power to harm us? Or do you put your own needs and desires aside because duty is heavy but we have all agreed to carry our share of it.”

“Why is my share so much heavier than other peoples’?” He demanded. “Why is yours? It isn’t fair!”

“Tell me something, what do you know of the Senju clan’s marriage practices?”

Honestly he should have smelled the trap coming a mile away but Madara was upset and indignant and too caught up in himself to notice anything. He sneered as he recalled his conversation with Hashirama a couple of weeks ago. “I know that they _expect_ to have their marriage arranged for them and that they’re allowed to sleep around with whoever they want until then but after they get married they’re expected to remain faithful. As if that erases their indiscretions beforehand!”

“Mm, I see. And tell me something else, what do you know of their divorce rates?”

“Divorce?” Madara stared at his old sensei in bewilderment. “I honestly didn’t know they _could_ get divorced.” He scowled when she shook her head in disappointment.

“Then let _me_ tell _you_ something. When your father agreed to their unholy demands I was angry. Of course I was! My favorite little bumble pie being tossed aside so callously! So I looked in to the Senju and I asked about their traditions. Did you know that they are allowed to seek a divorce after five years if the couple are irreparably unhappy? Even more interesting, did you know that most of them don’t? The divorce rates among the Senju clan are so low I had to ask my source to repeat the number three times.”

Flustered, Madara blurted out, “So what?”

“So! That means that they are happy. Our traditions tell us that happiness is found and then kept. Their traditions tell them that happiness is _built_ and _maintained_. It’s crazy and it’s different but it works for them. Don’t you think it’s possible that if you gave this a proper try there is even a miniscule chance it might work for you too?”

The hot ball in Madara’s chest expanded and his first primal instinct was to scream in her face that she had betrayed him too. Luckily for his continued survival he chose not to go with his first instinct. Susumu-sensei loved him deeply but she had never hesitated to beat some sense in to him with physical force when she thought it was necessary. So instead he settled for turning away and glaring deeply at the neat little row of tins lined up on top of the counter, samples of her ingredients for customers to check the quality.

Her question was ridiculous, of course. Never in his life had he heard anything as stupid as the idiocy she was spouting. Even worse, she agreed with something Hashirama had said! She made the point even better than him and the Senju were Hashirama’s own clan! Madara glared at a tin marked ‘vanilla bean’ and hated the fact that he could finally see the point both of them had been trying to make.

But his own point still stood too! Madara didn’t see why he had to be the only one putting in a little effort! And he wasn’t about to let anyone else get away with thinking so.

“If the Senju are all about working on their marriage then where the hell is Tobirama? We don’t even speak; it’s like I live alone!” Behind him he could hear Susumu-sensei releasing a light sigh.

“He’s even younger than you are and it seems to me you’ve made your opinions on him quite clear. Have you considered that he doesn’t see the point in trying to convince someone as hard-headed as you to change your mind about something? Perhaps he too is making the best of what he has.” She appeared at his side, patting his elbow in a rare show of gentleness. “I know it will be hard but it looks like you might need to be the one who makes the first move. Whether or not the two of you find love it will make your lives much easier if you at least get along. I don’t enjoy seeing you this miserable, little one.”

“You know, some day you’ll see the irony in calling me that,” Madara deflected rather than answer her. He looked down at her when she snorted brashly.

“Hah! You think I don’t? Boy, there is no better insult than me calling you little!” His sensei cackled and Madara rolled his eyes but one corner of his lips twitched with the first hint of a smile. As much as he despised her advice he was still glad he had chosen to come here. Susumu-sensei had a way of bringing the world in to focus again when he lost himself to emotions and she never failed to make him feel better – even when he didn’t want to feel anything but rage and righteous indignation.

She had certainly given him some things to think about now. Madara wasn’t ready to admit that she might be right and he definitely wasn’t promising he was going to follow her advice but he knew he would at least give proper consideration to what she’d said.

For now, however, he had a limited amount of time left on his lunch break and he wanted to be calm by the time he went back to work.

“What’s the freshest you’ve got today?” he asked, ducking down to look through the glass in the counter at all the cakes and tarts and muffins on display, each more delicious than the last. Susumu-sensei opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by the ding of an oven in the back.

“Rhubarb pie as of right now,” she announced. “You’ll take the whole thing of course. And you’ll eat it this time! Don’t think I didn’t hear about you giving away those lemon cookies I sent over last month!”

“I don’t even like lemon!”

“Pah, excuses! They’re no more sour than you are!”

Falling in to the pattern of bickering with his old sensei was the easiest thing in the world and just what he needed at the moment. Madara carefully shuffled his problems off to the side where they certainly weren’t going to be forgotten but he could at least function around them until he was ready to sit down and deal with it like a proper adult.

Which was clearly not now. Right now he wanted nothing more than to get lost in the calming ridiculousness Susumu always seemed to wear around her like a mysterious cape – if mysterious capes came smelling like delicious apple pies.


	7. Chapter 7

As he had silently promised himself, Madara did think about what Susumu-sensei and Hashirama both said to him. The idea that one had to work to fall in love still baffled him, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to wrap his head around it, but one thing did stick out for him as only logical. If he wasn’t going to have a chance to achieve the happiness he should have been able to have in life then there was no point in making himself even more miserable than he needed to be. It would be best if he and Tobirama got along, at least.

Where he balked was having to make that first move himself. For all the unfairness he was already suffering he thought in this he should be allowed a bit of selfishness. Tobirama had grown up expecting this sort of misery so obviously he should be the one to make the first effort, not Madara who was still trying to get used to the fact that his life would always be empty of love.

The problem chased him around for several days and kept him just preoccupied enough not to think it was all that weird when he noticed his husband watching him a little too closely during meetings. Generally the two of them avoided looking at each other when at all possible so having Tobirama spend several days eyeing him contemplatively should have awakened suspicion or worry or some kind of self-preservation instinct. Madara’s only excuse was that Tobirama’s gaze seemed to have absolutely no ill intent, no dire under-handed plan with him as the target. All he did was stare with those pretty red eyes that any Uchiha would be jealous of.

Madara was ashamed to say that he didn’t fully register the anomaly until a bigger one came along when Tobirama approached him of his own free will while he was doing nothing more than sitting at the island in their kitchen with a mug of tea. Sudden movement in the corner of one eye sent him leaping right out of his own skin, mug falling on its side and sending tea rushing across the surface.

“_Shit_,” he growled quietly. “I thought you were gone.”

“Ah.” Tobirama blinked at the tea with the same old dead expression as always. Madara spun to reach for a towel but when he turned back Tobirama had one hand hovering over the spill and lit up with chakra. One twist of his fingers and the liquid followed where he beckoned it like he was some sort of water spirit, back in to the mug that he had already set back to rights.

Rather than thank him Madara grunted and pulled his tea closer to inspect it for any funny business. His husband watched him for a moment before sighing and looking away.

“I need to speak with you about something.” He looked up again at Tobirama’s voice.

“Those proposals I sent in yesterday are no longer up for debate,” Madara ground out, hackles up before anything else had been said. He was all ready to defend the papers he’d spent several weeks redrafting each time Tobirama brought up another point of contention during council meetings – but the subject was waved off with a quick swat of one pale hand.

“Not that.” If Madara didn’t know better he would have said by the shifting of weight and refusal to meet eyes that Tobirama was nervous. “As a…_member_ of the clan I asked around and apparently overseeing the training of the younglings is your purview. Unexpected, I have to admit.”

“Okay…?”

Taking a deep breath and letting it back out in a rush, Tobirama raised his chin to look finally meet Madara’s gaze with an almost defiant expression. “I was going to do this anyway but Hashirama has been badgering me and there really is no point in pissing you off more if it isn’t necessary. I would like your…_permission_ to train Uchiha Kagami. You seem close with the boy so he probably would have said something eventually anyway.”

Shrugging lightly as if to convince himself he didn’t care all that much, Tobirama looked away again, focusing out the window at the trees rustling in the wind. Madara stared.

“You want to train an Uchiha child?” he demanded. Tobirama gave him one sharp nod.

“Training the younglings has always been one of my duties. Or it was until I effectively left the clan. Kagami is…different from the other Uchiha that I have met. Affable.”

“Right.” Drumming his fingers in the island between them, Madara squinted. “There has to be more to it than that.”

He almost had a moment to feel smug for guessing right until the other man’s reluctant response took all the wind out of his sails – out of his lungs as well, leaving him feeling rather like he’d been punched in the gut.

“It was my thought that proving I can care for one of your children would endear me in some slight way to the others so they might not detest me quite so much. Earn their trust, so to speak.” Clearly forcing the words outs had cost him greatly but that was definitely not what Madara focused on. He was more stunned by the words themselves than the effort behind them.

“Wait, you think my clan hates you? All of them?”

To Tobirama’s credit, he refrained from snarkily pointing out that they were technically supposed to be his clan now as well. With a tight jaw and clenched fists he asked, “Don’t they? When I draw near they stop speaking. When I come around the corner they stop laughing, stop smiling. All signs of joy flee at first sight of me. To you they nod and smile and chatter. To me they bow and speak formally and then hurry away as quickly as they can. I think it’s more than clear that I am not welcome _anywhere_ in this clan.”

Blinking slowly, Madara bit the inside of his cheek and wondered if perhaps the two of them were both doomed to misinterpret every social interaction they ever experienced. It would be ironic, if nothing else, for that to be their only commonality.

“My – _our_ people do not hate you.”

“I’m sorry, did you listen to a word I just said?”

“They don’t!” Madara rolled his eyes. “If you had bothered to ask any of them they could have explained that they were trying to make you more comfortable!”

“By alienating me?” Tobirama gave him a dubious look.

Frustrated, Madara curled the fingers he had been drumming. “No! You’re always so…so…formal! Distant! They’re trying to act more appropriately to your station so they don’t insult you with frivolity!”

“Insult me with frivolity? They think I don’t want them to be happy?” By the end of his question Tobirama’s voice had trailed off and Madara was nearly shocked right out of his socks as he realized that his husband was actually saddened by the thought that others might be unhappy because of him. It was oddly human of him.

Slightly uncomfortable with this revelation, he brought his arms close to cross over his chest and muttered, “They’re perfectly happy; just a bit more restrained because they – and I, to be honest – thought you would prefer more formal interactions. They’re showing you respect.”

“I see. I had no idea that was the general opinion of me.”

“Well _your_ general opinion was that they all hated you so it’s not like that’s much worse.”

Tobirama scowled but for once the expression seemed turned inwards at himself. “It baffled me that Kagami could be so different from the rest of his clan, so cheerful when everyone else who spoke to me seemed so insular.”

“Kagami is no different from the rest of us,” Madara snorted. “He’s just too enthusiastic to keep it in his head when his mother tells him to remember his manners.”

“I prefer him the way he is.” Tobirama shrugged.

“Do you?” Humming thoughtfully, Madara realized with no small amount of surprise that it seemed he hadn’t needed to make the first move after all. Susumu-sensei’s words bounced off each other inside his head for the thousandth time, echoed by Hashirama’s voice insisting that his little brother wasn’t actually a closed off robot, that he was somehow worth getting to know. Before he could stop himself Madara allowed his curiosity to get the better of him and asked, “Do you like kids or something?”

He wondered if it was the question itself or just the fact that he had asked it that gave Tobirama such a startled look on his face.

“Yes,” was his simple answer.

“Huh. I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Why, because I am so cold and formal?” Tobirama ground out and Madara couldn’t really bring himself to be angry about it because yes, that was exactly why.

“It was a misconception,” he admitted instead. “One that you have now cleared up.”

Tobirama watched him carefully for a few moments, probably trying to determine whether or not he was being sincere, then finally nodded to close the subject. “Do I have your permission, then? To train Kagami as my own student? You have my word that he will receive my best efforts.”

For a second Madara hesitated, not sure how to voice his single protest without being insulting. Despite what it might look like to anyone observing them they were actually making more progress with each other in this single conversation than any they’d had before. Not a single intentional insult so far. He would call that progress!

“I can only see one difficulty, being that you are a water natured shinobi. Kagami is fire natured, like almost all Uchiha tend to be, and he will eventually need someone who can teach him the clan jutsu.”

Not looking the slightest put off, Tobirama hummed in thought. “I would ask that you simply teach _me_ the clan jutsu but I’m entirely certain that would be breaking some sort of rule. Are spouses allowed to learn clan jutsu? I suppose if they are it would still require a level of trust which…does not exist here.” The simple hesitation at the end of his sentence was significant in some way, Madara was sure of that, but he would have to mull it over later. Something else required his attention first.

“How on earth would I teach them to you?” he asked. Had he not just said that he knew the man’s nature was water? Yet Tobirama only shrugged and casually rocked his world yet again with a single calmly spoken sentence.

“I can use all five nature releases,” he said, “so it wouldn’t be a problem for me to learn them.”

“You…what?”

Tilting his head, Tobirama drew his brows together in a contemplative frown. “I was given to believe that was fairly common within the Uchiha clan. Your dōjutsu allow you to instantly memorize and copy jutsu of any nature beyond kekkei genkai, correct?”

“Yes but – wait, how did you know that?”

“I…asked?”

Madara blinked. “Asked who? When? And _why_ were you asking about our eyes?” Suspicion reared its head and Tobirama clearly knew the lines he was thinking along because contemplation quickly turned to confused offense.

“As soon as I learned that I was engaged to you I wished to know more. Was that not you who answered my letters?”

“What letters!?”

“I sent dozens of letters when I was told of our engagement! We were going to live together but we’d never met; I wanted to know you, to understand the people that I would be living among. I assumed it was you answering my questions.” He looked uncomfortable with the idea that he had been communicating with some unknown entity.

“No…I had no idea you ever sent anything.”

On his part Madara couldn’t decide which made him more uncomfortable. The fact that someone had been answering his mail without even informing him that it was there or the fact that someone had so easily sent confidential information about their clan’s most prized treasure – their own eyes – out in to the world in _letters_ that could have fallen in to the hands of practically anyone without them even knowing.

He would have to look in to who did something so stupid. Izuna wouldn’t be the one. His brother was even more suspicious and protective of their clan secrets than Madara was. Susumu-sensei certainly knew how to imitate his style of writing but he couldn’t imagine how she would know he was receiving mail or how she would have been in the right place to intercept ‘dozens’ of letters without him noticing. Not to mention that she wouldn’t have any motive that he could think of to do that.

The only other person he could think of was his father but the old coot didn’t strike him as the type either. Unless…

“Were they sealed?” he asked with dread curling in his stomach.

“Yes. Every letter was sealed to open only if I penned the correct kanji on the outside. Why?”

“Mother _fucker_!” Madara looked around for something to hit but everything in range was breakable. “You were writing to my _father_. He’s never sent a letter he hasn’t sealed; it’s the only fūinjutsu he knows and he likes to show it off.”

Tobirama thought for a moment. “Your eyes can’t copy fūinjutsu?”

“No, they can’t.”

“Oh. I never thought to ask, I simply assumed. Although I suppose I can understand the logic of it if how your Sharingan works falls in to the theory I was able to cobble together from the sparse information I was allowed to know. Tell me, if you see someone release a jutsu but you don’t see the hand seals they used to activate it then can you still imitate it?”

Blinking even harder now Madara tried to follow yet another jump in topic. He was having a little trouble keeping up, answering out of reflex as he reeled along behind the other man and tried to figure out what they were really talking about. “Ah, no. We need to know how to _use_ the jutsu of course.”

“Yes, of course. Excellent. So I was right then!”

“About what!?”

“That’s why you wouldn’t be able to learn fūinjutsu just by looking at a seal, even if your Sharingan were activated! Because you didn’t get to watch when it was originally laid!”

Madara wanted to respond somehow, never a fan of being left in the dust to feel like he was too stupid to follow a conversation, but he found it quite difficult to think past anything except the brilliant, lopsided grin splitting Tobirama’s face in half quite suddenly. In all the time since they had married he had yet to see the man smile even once. He was a _vision_. He was also apparently off on an excitable tangent with no intention of slowing down.

“So if you do see someone laying a seal would you be able to memorize it then? Or would fūinjutsu be different because it relies a little more heavily on the environment and the materials used rather than just the base chakra of the one who draws it?”

“I don’t…know.”

“Hmm. Something to test! Excellent! I’ll have to ask Kagami if he might help me record some results, he did express some interest in returning to the lab. Very interesting! I wonder if–”

As though entirely forgetting that they had been in the middle of a conversation, as if everything they had just been talking about was already erased from his mind, Tobirama spun on one heel and walked away muttering under his breath the whole time. Madara stood in the kitchen and watched the man turn left out of the doorway. Then ten seconds later he passed the doorway again in the opposite direction. Had he forgotten where he was going in his distraction?

It took a while for Madara to move again. All he could see in his mind’s eye was the afterimage of that incredible smile. More than human, more than just aesthetically appealing, he had looked happy. Now that was a word Madara had never thought he would ever associate with someone like Tobirama but there was no denying what he had seen. A small part of him wished he had taken the time to activate the Sharingan they had been talking about and demonstrate its memorizing prowess by imprinting that unexpected gift in to his memories forever.

The moment he realized where his thoughts were headed Madara scrambled up out of his seat. He didn’t even want to look at the clock as he snatched up his obi and made himself a little more presentable on the run. With how long they had stood there chatting it would be a miracle if he wasn’t late to work.

Most of the journey across the village passed him by in a blur of distracted thoughts, the majority of them centered around a husband he’d thought he had figured out. Evidently his sensei and Hashirama had both been right to tell him to look deeper. Well, to be fair, Hashirama was the only one who had insisted that there was anything deeper to look for. Susumu-sensei had mostly just told him to get his head out of his own self-centered ass.

Either way he was hardly about to rush off and tell either of them that they had been right. Surely they would figure that out on their own eventually – and then hopefully never bring it up to him again.

Not wanting to be caught showing up late by his father, Madara figured his best bet would be to slip in the window of his own office and threaten Hashirama in to silence about his untimely arrival. It seemed like such a great plan right up until the moment he was sitting astride the window sill with one foot still outside and both of his father’s eyes staring him down from the doorway. He was all too familiar with that fire and brimstone expression and for a single moment he considered spitting at the man’s feet in anger of his own. It was sad the way he was getting used to holding that hot ball of betrayal in his stomach when he met Tajima’s eyes. How dare he answer letters meant for someone else? And how dare he never deign to so much as mention them? He spent enough time reminding Madara how important it was that their marriage stay together, one would think he’d be the first to help them along with that.

But the moment passed and Madara schooled himself in to a carefully blank expression. Nothing good would come of yelling at his father for something that happened months ago and he knew damn well he would never get the apology he wanted. The best thing right now was to redirect the anger he was already being faced with. It was always better to just get the truth over with when Tajima brought out that particular pinched expression. Across the room Hashirama kept his eyes on his own work and tried not to look like he was cowering while Madara brought his second foot in to the office.

“I apologize father,” he mumbled, not actually sorry at all. “I was speaking with Tobirama and we simply lost track of time.”

“Speaking with your husband?” Tajima lifted one eyebrow and Madara hesitated. He would be the first to admit that it sounded unlike him but it was the truth!

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll let it pass this once. Finally a little effort; I would hate to discourage such behavior.” With a warning look that he would not be so lenient if this happened again, Tajima dropped a handful of scrolls in his inbox, demanded they be looked over by the end of the day, and then left.

Madara slumped down in to his chair with legs that felt like jelly. A smiling husband and a lenient father, what other surprises would he have to deal with before noon?

While he tried to convince his heart to stop racing Hashirama was just peeking up from his own space across the room. If he’d been watching for it he would have seen the worrisome grin spreading across his friend’s face, not nearly as attractive as his brother’s and generally the herald to much more chaos. Probably. Madara was actually a little worried about what Tobirama had wandered off to do.

“Sooooo…” Hashirama appeared at his side like a ghost and Madara startled violently for the second time that morning.

“_What_?”

“You were chatting with your husband were you?” the man grinned at him, leaning down to rest both elbows on the desk so he could drop his head in both palms. “Things are improving then?”

“It was one conversation,” Madara snarled.

He shoved the unwanted elbows off his work surface and reached for the scrolls his father had dropped off for him but Hashirama was far from deterred. A second later it was an unwanted rump planting itself across the spot he was about to fill with parchment and important duties.

“Tell me everything! One conversation can pave the way for many more! You’ve been having such a hard time with all of this, can’t I be happy for you that it looks like things are finally on the up?”

“Would you go away and let me work?”

“Come on! Please? Just tell me what you two were talking about!”

“Ugh!” Madara rubbed and the bridge of his noise impatiently. “He wants to train a student. That’s it. Now will you screw off? You heard my father, I have to get these done by the end of the day and I already had a full plate!” There really was no point in starting a discussion about the whole letter fiasco right now. Maybe his friend would have some insights in to that but that was best left for later; they were supposed to be working right now.

Hashirama didn’t protest when he was pushed off the desk again but he did make soft little cooing noises as though his brother taking on a new student was the cutest thing ever. Which didn’t make a lot of sense. Hadn’t Tobirama mentioned that training the younglings had been one of his duties before their clans moved here and he was married off to someone else? Madara wondered vaguely who had taken up that duty in his absence. Overseeing the new fighters was his own responsibility as well, technically, but he had taken to delegating that task to others since discovering early on that he was a _shitty_ teacher.

Despite his insistence that he had a lot of work to do Madara found it difficult to concentrate with so many new thoughts about Tobirama bouncing off each other inside his head. It had never occurred to him that anyone could misconstrue a bit of polite behavior as hatred but now that it had been pointed out he could see how being treated differently by an _entire clan_ might give that impression. Between that, the shock of having him ask to personally train little Kagami – when had they even met? – and the curious offhand statement about some kind of lab, Madara despaired of the idea that he would be able to accomplish even half of what he needed to get done that day.

For once, however, his thoughts of Tobirama were not filled with anger or grumbling about how much he hated the man. It wasn’t much progress yet but he had to admit that even a small step was big for them. Perhaps it was a little early to say for sure but Hashirama might have actually been correct for once. Things might finally be on their way up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the wiki Tobirama really can use all five nature releases as well as yin and yang. Probably not realistic that he would master them all by the age of nineteen...but it's my story and I do what I want. :D


	8. Chapter 8

Shouting wasn’t all that uncommon to hear upon entering the top floor of the tower since whenever the yelling started it could often be heard a floor or two below. Madara had been hearing muffled anger coming through the ceiling of his own office for the past hour and until he came upstairs the only attention he’d given to it was to be grateful that none of the noise seemed to be coming from his father’s office. Dealing with an angry Tajima was never a fun time.

Now that he was up here, though, Madara found himself standing next to an open doorway with his jaw hanging loose as he watched Tobirama stare down his own father with a stiff spine no matter how loud the man screamed in his face. Whatever else he was, Tobirama was brave. He had to be to pull his face in to that expression while getting yelled at by his superiors. Brows furrowed, lips turned down in an offended scowl, arms crossed tightly over his chest, he looked half a sentence away from snapping someone’s neck but it was hard to tell whether he looked more angry or offended. Probably a healthy mixture of both.

It took a minute or so of staring for Madara to finally tune in to the words ricocheting of the walls around them. When he realized what, exactly, Butsuma was yelling about he too began to frown.

“-utter garbage!” he was saying, waving a packet of papers around that had very likely been neat and tidy until he got his mitts on them. “Better served wiping my own ass with this than submitting it to the council, it’s useless! Have you forgotten how to use mathematics since the last time we spoke? Logic? That stupid lump between your ears? I can’t imagine what could possibly have been going through your head!”

“If you’d let me speak–” Tobirama grit out between his teeth but that was all he managed before being cut off by papers impacting with his nose.

Madara stared, wide eyed. Had the man really just thrown the papers in his son’s face? Sure his own father had gone cold and unresponsive since his wife passed away, sure he had always been a little narrow-minded, but Tajima had never deliberately mistreated anyone under his own command quite so blatantly as what just happened between the two Senju.

“Why would you need to speak?” Butsuma shouted. “This trash speaks for itself as far as I can tell! You were given the numbers I wanted two weeks ago and this is what I get back? Did you even read the parameters I laid out for you?”

“Of course I did!”

“Then what in fresh hell is this? It was supposed to be a tax proposal, not an offer for every civilian to bend over so we can kiss their asses for them! Had I known you would ignore everything I asked you to do I would have saved time and just done it myself! Now I might as well cancel the meeting because I am _not_ submitting this as a final proposal!”

Jutting his chin out, Tobirama insisted, “There’s nothing wrong with it!”

“_Do not speak back to me_!” Butsuma’s hand raised but Tobirama refused to back down and Madara found himself moving before he even realized what he was doing.

“I would have to agree with Tobirama.” Both men in the office froze, their heads snapping around to stare at him with similar expressions of disbelief. “I looked over it with Hashirama when you left it on his desk. The numbers in the original proposal were too high by half. If we tax the civilians based on economic status we’ll just be giving ourselves an economic _weakness_ right from the start but Tobirama’s proposal that we tax them based on their income and expenditures works out to be much fairer to everyone.” He did his best not to look too hard at the utter shock on his husband’s face; it was only the truth.

With one eye twitching, Butsuma asked in a deadly quiet voice, “Do you think _fair_ is what I had in mind? They are civilians, they do nothing but waste our precious resources! We are the ones that risk our lives so that they can live here in the lap of luxury! They should be supporting us!”

“They’re not wasting resources,” Madara balked. “They provide services that shinobi can’t – or won’t – devote their time to. They grow the food we eat and harvest it, they run the shops we frequent, and all the small stuff as well like caring for the gardens and parks that we relax in. Just because a detail is tiny doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“And they can’t do those things if we tax them out of their own homes,” Tobirama leapt in.

“It’s still not enough!”

Madara held in a flinch at having all that volume directed at him from close range but he was spared any further anger by a heavy step behind him and a familiar hand dropping on to one shoulder. When he looked around he almost sighed out loud to find Tajima standing there. He was the last person who would ever ask his father to leap to his defense but judging from the deep lines of anger around his mouth and the tense muscles of his jaw it seemed that was exactly what the man was about to do.

For pride, Madara knew. Not because he was insulted on behalf of his son but because until now he and Butsuma had followed an unspoken agreement to stay away from each others’ children. Now that agreement had been broken and with it his pride had been tarnished.

“How dare you speak to him like that?” Tajima growled. “If you have a problem with my son then you bring it to me. Madara, Tobirama, the two of you will leave us. I would speak with Butsuma alone.”

Neither of them needed to be told twice. Madara waited for Tajima to step around him and then backed away, dropping off the scrolls he had come upstairs to deliver and then hurrying back out just as Butsuma’s office door slammed shut. The layer of thick wood did nothing to quiet their volume until Tobirama turned back and pressed his palm in the exact center of the door, a mid-sized seal that he had clearly drawn at some point beforehand coming to life at his touch. Silence fell the moment it began to glow.

“A silencing seal. I didn’t know that was possible.” Madara tilted his head to look from a better angle.

“Seals are among the most useful tool at a shinobi’s disposal. I don’t know why more people don’t learn the art now that the Uzumaki have granted us access to more instruction.” Turning back and hesitantly raising his eyes, Tobirama quietly added, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Madara cleared his throat uncomfortably. Truth be told he wasn’t entirely sure why he had bothered to intervene. It wasn’t his business, after all. “You were right. He was wrong. All I did was agree with you.”

“Yes but…well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Whatever your reasons, thank you. It’s good to know that someone else here sees sense in the matter. Until he started yelling I thought the numbers he originally asked for were a mistake.” Tobirama rolled his eyes. He didn’t look all that surprised to know that his father had intended to pad shinobi expenses by taxing the civilians right out of their clothes.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I’m surprised to see you defy him so openly.”

“It’s hard to tell his general bad attitude from true anger sometimes.” Tobirama shrugged like it was no big deal. “Sometimes I get away with it. Sometimes he drags me out to the sparring fields. It’s my own fault that I gamble on which reaction I’ll get.”

“He _hits _you?” Madara asked with horror.

Tobirama blinked and then shook his head. “He’s not abusive, if that’s what you mean. Every shinobi I know likes to settle things with a spar. I’m free to decline if I want but it usually means he’ll be pissy for the next week and I’ll rather let him grind me in to the dirt then deal with that.”

It was the casual way he said it that bothered Madara the most until he looked a little closer and saw the tension in Tobirama’s shoulders, the way he held himself as if just waiting to go on the defensive. His body language was much more upset than his expression or tone would have others believe and Madara wondered if he’d been missing similar clues in their conversations all this time simply because he hadn’t bothered to look for them.

“Right. We should get out of here before they realize we haven’t,” he pointed out. Tobirama nodded.

“I need to get going, yes. I’m supposed to be overseeing construction of the archives and I’ve been held back too long already for this bullshit.” When he rolled his eyes one side of his mouth quirked and Madara was reminded vividly of the smile he had seen the other day. Thinking about it left him feeling even more awkward so he waved his husband down the stairs first.

“After you.”

Reaching the bottom of the stairs together, the two of them paused and hovered for a moment, on the verge of bidding each other goodbye yet at the same time questioning whether they should. It wasn’t like either was in the habit of caring where the other went. After a few painful moments Madara grunted and gave a single brusque wave, spinning on his heel and stomping off to his office where he buried his head under the schedules he was supposed to be making for the next patrol rotation.

Uneventful as the rest of his day was, Madara figured he could point to boredom as the reason his mind kept running away to land at Tobirama’s feet throughout the endless hours of paperwork. It was almost a miracle he ended up with as much work completed as he did by the time Hashirama clapped his hands together and asked if Madara would like to join him for a spot of tea before they both headed home.

The distraction was more than welcome – at first. He should have known that Hashirama would find a way to turn the conversation around to his brother somehow. After hearing that they had one little conversation without screaming at each other the man had been nearly impossible to shut up ever since, waxing poetic about Tobirama’s supposed better qualities, working little mentions about him in to every other sentence. Never pushing for them to interact more as he had so often before but still circling back to his brother with annoying frequency. Madara had been sick of it in less than an hour. After the first day he was ready to bury his own head in the sand. Several days later and he had already picked out exactly which river he was going to drown Hashirama in before immolating the body.

Although.

Narrowing his eyes in thought, Madara peeked at the man over the rim of his teacup. If he wanted to talk about Tobirama then he could at least sate Madara's interest in something offhand Tobirama had thrown around, something he would definitely like to get a little more information on. He didn’t even bother to wait for a natural break to slip his question in to. With Hashirama it was always better to just interrupt him rather than let yourself grow old waiting for him to finish.

“Does your brother have a laboratory?” he asked. Hashirama broke off his florid description of Tobirama’s favorite kata sets and tilted his head.

“Well he did. Back at the old compound he had a whole separate building for his experiments. It was just safer that way, you know? What with the explosions and sometimes the smells were just overwhelming.” The man shuddered like he was trying to repress a particularly bad memory.

“Explosions!?” The tea cup rattled when it hit the table, Madara's hands curling in to fists on either side.

Hashirama only waved him off with a little smile. “Nothing too serious! Er, anymore. He’s really improved his lab safety over the years. The explosions are mostly contained now and he’s very strict about who he allows in to his space while he’s working since he knows it can be dangerous. Says it wouldn’t be right to risk anyone else’s life.”

“Oh. That’s…better I suppose.” That meant that he wasn’t endangering Kagami in anyway. “Wait you said that he _did_ have a lab. So he doesn’t have one here in the village?”

“No, he hasn’t asked me to throw up a structure for him and he wouldn’t waste resources right now having someone else fund the building.”

“But he said- hm. Interesting.”

“He said what?” Hashirama leaned forward with wide eyes pleading for him to go on.

Madara uncurled his fingers and played with the handle of his mug. “He said something about one of the Uchiha children ‘returning’ to his lab, which would imply that they had already been there. If he doesn’t have anything like that here in the village then what did he do, spirit the kid away to your old grounds? I’d like to think we’d notice if a child had gone missing so completely.”

“Well that’s odd. He hasn’t said anything to me about setting up somewhere new.”

“I guess he doesn’t really tell you everything after all,” Madara said, unable to help himself from getting in a jab. He carelessly ignored the pouting staring back at him and sipped his tea.

“Does so! Tobi loves me!”

“What does he even need a lab for anyway? You said something about experiments. I guess like…science? And other stuff.” Having been a front line fighter all his life and a clan heir in his spare time, Madara had never really given much thought to other mental pursuits. His understanding of science was vague at best.

In his head when he tried to imagine Tobirama doing science things all he could picture was a thick pair of goggles and endless tubes filled with multicolored liquids. He hadn’t the faintest notion what liquids they would be or what to do with them but that was the picture he had. But his husband had asked about seals and as far as Madara knew there were no compounds or mixtures needed in order to work with seals – although he could be wrong. Fūinjutsu wasn’t exactly his area of expertise either.

Luckily he had Hashirama here to pump for answers.

His friend looked confused by his own words as he went off but Madara listened closely anyway and absorbed as much as he could. Apparently Tobirama’s favorite hobby was research, which brought to mind dusty old tomes and reading. The experiments he performed sounded both dangerous and fascinating even if Hashirama wasn’t very clear on exactly what those experiments involved. But what caught his interest the most was the mention of jutsu creation and the way Hashirama oh-so-casually mentioned that some of the jutsu the Senju clan used so often had been invented by Tobirama himself, some of them when he was as young as nine.

Eventually Hashirama distracted himself and went off on another tangent Madara had no interest in but that was fine, it gave him time to examine all the information he’d just had dumped on him and see what he thought of everything. He still had a dozen questions left unanswered and this conversation had probably given him a dozen more and yet he felt satisfied at the moment. Almost happy, dare he say it.

Until it began to lessen and fade he hadn’t realized how much his hatred for the situation they were in was weighing him down, ruining even the moments when he should have been able to sit in quiet contentment.

When their tea cups ran dry at last and the waitress began to give them impatient looks Madara bid Hashirama a good evening and headed for home. The walk was nice, a bit of cool evening air and an easy pace, friendly faces nodding to him when they passed. By the time he turned on to his own street he was in a suspiciously pleasant mood.

Madara didn’t particularly have any plans to fill the rest of his night with and as it turned out that was a good thing. He stopped as soon as he walked in the door, tempted to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t just hallucinating the head of white hair visible over the back of the living room couch. Tobirama was home. For the first time since they moved in to this house Tobirama had come home before Madara went to bed.

He looked somehow smaller than usual sitting on the couch with papers spread out in every direction. Maybe it was the lack of a desk to make him look important or maybe it was because for once they weren’t standing face to face where his six feet of height had the advantage no matter how Madara pushed himself up on to his toes. Whatever it was that looked so different it actually made him oddly more approachable – not that Madara planned on approaching him. He was too busy standing in the genkan and staring down the hallway at the back of the man’s head and it was only when Tobirama turned around to blink at him that he snapped his body in half to yank his sandals off.

Tobirama was still staring when he stood up so Madara shifted his weight uneasily and lifted one awkward hand. He got a faintly confused look before finally the man went back to whatever it was he was doing. Inching forward, trying to be subtle about his movements, he slowly made his way close enough to see what his husband was doing.

In a way Madara supposed he’d been hoping for something personal or one of those science things that Hashirama had been telling him about. Finding nothing but the regular work all of them slogged through every day at the tower was a little anticlimactic. He tried not to huff too loudly with disappointment as he slipped away towards the kitchen. After all the tea he’d drank his belly _felt_ full but he knew the second he emptied his bladder he’d be hungry again so he might as well go see what was in the fridge. It took a couple minutes to cobble together a bit of this and bit of that and what he came out with was more of a glorified snack plate than an actual meal but it was enough to carry with him to hover in the doorway between kitchen and living room.

“Much as I’m sure the rumors would disagree,” Tobirama’s voice startled him, “I don’t actually bite.”

“Never thought you did,” Madara grumbled, embarrassed to be caught in his indecision. Now that he’d been spotted there was nothing for it but to boldly step in to the room like that had been his plan all along and claim a spot on the opposite couch from where Tobirama had spread out his things. He watched the man’s eyes flicker up and around, making sure he hadn’t spread so far as to be in Madara's way, then he went back to whatever it was he was doing.

From this close Madara could see better that the books piled on one corner of the table were tax codes and the scroll closest to him was unrolled to reveal endless tables of numbers all corresponding back to each other with a dozen little addendums written at the base of each one.

“You’re not rewriting that tax proposal His Assness was harping on about earlier, are you?”

“Rewriting, no. Revising, yes. All his screeching made me realize that I had left several loose ends for anyone like him to take advantage of with loop holes and technicalities. I need to make the language of these laws more precise so he can’t just bend them to his will and get what he wants.” Tobirama leaned forward to grab another piece of paper from the mess and pulled it in to his lap, scribbling away in the notebook on the cushion beside him.

“Oh. That’s actually pretty smart.”

“Would have been smarter if I had seen these flaws when I wrote it before.” Tobirama paused with a frustrated wrinkle between his brows. “Makes me wonder if the other things I’ve been working on suffer from the same weaknesses but I simply haven’t the time to go back over everything I’ve done for the past several months.”

Madara had to frantically chew through the bite of cheese he’s just shoved in his mouth in order to speak. “Several months? We’ve only been working on that sort of thing for a _couple_ of months.”

“But we’ve all known the village was being built long before it was. I was working on sanitation systems and plumbing designs and street blueprints shortly after the treaty was signed; it wasn’t that much extra to start working on a few administrative things as well.” He shrugged like it was no big deal while Madara shrank down in his seat feeling like the worst kind of sluggard.

“I…was not doing all that.”

While Tobirama was hard at work Madara had been running free through the woods around the Uchiha ancestral grounds, mourning his personal woes and paying no attention to the real world problems around him. Never in his life had he considered himself pampered in anyway until that moment.

And never had he been so chastened despite the fact that neither of Tobirama’s two most important admissions had been phrased in a way to make him feel guilty. For all these weeks of conflict between them he’d spent his time trundling around feeling sorry for himself, feeling righteously indignant and insisting that Tobirama should have to put even more effort in to fixing their problems than he should be expected to since these were his traditions, after all. Now he sat with his sad little snack plate forgotten across his knees as he realized that Tobirama _had_ been putting in the effort.

He’d written all those letters trying to get to know his potential husband only to be rebuffed on their wedding night with such harsh words; it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know those letters hadn’t reached their intended recipient. And if that weren’t enough he had thrown himself whole-heartedly in to the efforts to raise a properly functioning village and continued to do so now despite the fact that there were really no benefits for him to reap so far, not personally anyway.

If it had been him that went to so much effort only to be met with a stone wall of a husband who refused to even see him as entirely human, Madara had to admit that he wouldn’t react very well either. A humbling realization if ever there had been one.

Such thoughts were heavy to deal with at the end of the day when he should be going to bed in only a couple of short hours. Madara pushed a few cuts of cold chicken around on his plate, considering the idea of apologizing and then discarding it just as quickly. Pride was definitely stupid in this situation but it had always been a failing of his, that was one thing he had never denied.

Important as his traditions were to him and as strongly as he believed that his husband did still owe him as much respect for that as he in turn owed Tobirama for what traditions the Senju followed, tradition had little to do with the fact that while he had reacted to this shitty situation with moping and self-pity Tobirama had reacted with trying to make the best of things. Could he really be blamed for pulling away when all those tries got him nothing but anger in return? Admittedly no. And strangely enough Madara felt almost as if he owed it to the other to make some kind of effort now to make up for not doing so before.

“Can I help?” he blurted before he could talk himself out of it. The blatant surprise that flashed across Tobirama’s face before the man caught it was understandable, sure, but he also thought it was kind of uncalled for. He could be nice! When he wanted to.

“Ah, how much do you recall from when you looked over it before?”

“Most of it. I have an excellent memory even without the Sharingan.”

“Good, good. Well…if you don’t think it’s too boring I suppose you could read through these appendixes and tell me if you can see any vague or unclear wording in them? It’s always good to have a second pair of eyes look at these things.” Tobirama handed over some papers and Madara set his plate aside to accept them.

Working together was undeniably strange but it was nice too. They didn’t talk much so Madara supposed it didn’t really count as a bonding activity but it did ease some of the guilt inside him and by the time he was rubbing at sandy eyes and heading off to bed he felt like they were much closer to at least a kind of balance or truce, a much desired change from hating the very sight of each other. This he could build on. Susumu-sensei was right that it was better to be friends and work together even if they never managed to build anything more than that.

As normal as it was for their usual habits, it wasn’t until Madara was nearly all the way asleep that his eyes snapped back open as he realized that Tobirama had looked just as tired as him. Yet here he lay in their bed alone while his husband continued to grind at the stone downstairs in the living room.

Guilt crept back in and stayed heavy under his heart until more than an hour later when Tobirama shuffled in to the room and physically collapsed on his side of the bed, out like a light before he even had time to pull the covers over himself. Madara curled himself in to tight ball, squeezed his eyes shut against unwanted thoughts, and failed to find rest until the moon had already begun her descent.


	9. Chapter 9

The effects of sleeping so little almost every single day must have been getting to him even more than Tobirama realized if he wasn’t able to sense one little child approaching him on a nearly empty avenue. Actually, after looking down a second time Tobirama stopped walking as he realized that this was not a child who had appeared as if from thin air but a grown woman whose body had apparently decided to stop growing just after reaching three feet tall. Her limbs were all too short, legs bowed as if she had spent her formative years on horseback, and her head was just a little too big for her body. Despite that she walked with the ease and confidence of a well-trained shinobi and her chakra, now that he was paying attention, felt sharp and ready. This was not a woman to underestimate.

“Can I help you?” he asked. Blunt questions were always best, in his opinion. No point in standing on ceremony when it was clear the other person had come armed with a specific agenda.

“You could help yourself,” the woman grumbled and Tobirama nodded with some exasperation.

“A friend of Madara's, I take it?”

She didn’t bother to answer but her lack of denial was enough for him. “I wanted to come meet you for myself and I must say, the rumors are all true. You certainly are a tasty young thing, aren’t you?”

Tobirama nearly choked on his own tongue while spluttering.

“I can’t even be half your age!” he managed to get out in a strangled voice.

“Pah! You might be only half baked but I’m still allowed to use my eyes!”

“What exactly do you mean by rumors? What rumors?” Tobirama looked around at the empty street, almost worried there might be others watching them, though he couldn’t say why he found that idea so worrisome. It would hardly have been be the first time his movements had been monitored.

“Surely you’ve heard them?” the woman at his feet declared. “Every woman with working eyeballs in this clan has been whispering about how good looking you are since the day of the wedding – and not a few of the men as well. I mean, sure, looks aren’t everything. But they certainly don’t hurt either, if you know what I mean!”

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, Tobirama mumbled under his breath, “I have trouble believing that.”

“Then you should get yourself in front of a mirror. I hear my dear old Madara has a rather nice one over the vanity in his bedroom, perhaps that one?”

He let his hand fall to give the woman a reproving look. For a shinobi with chakra as refined as hers that had been the exact opposite of subtle. She didn’t even have the decency to look sorry for her suggestion either, giving Tobirama the impression that he probably didn’t want to ask exactly what she had meant to imply by it. He let the subject fall to one side as they turned down a shady avenue and gave his attention to the small group of children passing them by with raucous laughter.

“I’ve known the lad since he was about their size, raised him more than his own father did.” Tobirama looked over to the woman now trundling along by his side and paused when he saw the reserved expression on her face. “He’s a blustering fool but there’s a heart of gold underneath all that hair and if I thought you were hurting him deliberately I would have already fed you your own spine. But you’re not. You’re both caught up in a situation you don’t like and neither one of you knows how to get the other one settled down but if at least one of you would just send up a white flag – something small! – you’d both have a much easier time of it, you know?”

“Yes, I do know.”

“So get to waving, then, you soggy muffin! What in hell’s name are you waiting for?”

Tobirama huffed. “You’ve got a lot of nerve for a woman who hasn’t even bothered to introduce herself to me yet. For all I know you could be an escaped mental patient berating the first idiot stupid enough to let her approach them. Although I suppose that doesn’t say much flattering about me either.” He wasn’t sure if he felt insulted or a little triumphant when she tilted her head back to roar with laughter.

“My name is Susumu and oddly enough I think I like you, young’n. I hope I’ve never killed anyone who meant something to you.”

“Ah. I hope the same.”

“Not likely. I’m a grumpy old crust and I’ve never liked many people.” Her words put a reluctant smile on Tobirama’s face and he settled on feeling proud.

“Then I shall take your approval as a compliment,” he told her. She nodded magnanimously in approval.

At the end of the avenue they turned another corner and Tobirama opened his mouth to bid this Susumu a good day since this was where he was supposed to meet Kagami for their first official day of training. He was stopped by the sight of Madara with a hand on one hip and the other waggling a stern finger, face pulled down in to a disappointed expression that had poor Kagami toeing the ground with shame. Tobirama’s first instinct was a wave of protective anger.

He was grateful, later, that he followed his secondary instincts instead and paused to listen before jumping in to the situation.

“It was just a stupid prank,” Kagami muttered in the direction of his shuffling feet. Madara snorted over him.

“Perhaps you meant it that way but what you did cost that woman a lot of money in wares. She’s a civilian, she relies only on the wares she sells for income and you’ve just taken that away from her. Can a civilian simply pick up an extra mission to make up for a loss in pay?”

“No, Madara-sama.”

“So what do you suppose she should do now?”

Kagami sniffled and looked away, properly shamed. “I-I don’t know.”

“If you were an active shinobi I would ask you to pay for those wares but you don’t make any of your own money yet. Should I ask your mother to pay on your behalf?” Madara lifted one eyebrow at the boy’s panicked expression. “No, I didn’t think you would like that either. Which means I’ll have to pay for them myself. So now you’ve caused trouble for two different people.”

“Well I…I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry, Madara-sama!”

His expression softening, Madara knelt down to Kagami’s level. “Intentions are all well and good but actions have consequences. I know you only meant to set off that flash powder as a prank but next time I want you to think about how your action will affect others.”

“Okay.” Kagami clasped his hands together and leveled his clan head will the single most potent set of puppy eyes that Tobirama had ever seen. “I _am_ really sorry.”

“Don’t look at me like that, brat, I practically raised Izuna. You think a good puppy face will crack me?” Almost as if to contradict himself Madara pushed himself back to his feet and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“He’s a good egg,” Susumu murmured from the corner of her mouth.

Tobirama wasn’t sure if she meant the boy or the man but either way, in that moment, he had to agree. When they came upon the scene to find an angry Madara he had expected the sort of explosive temper that anyone working around the administration tower got to witness all too often. He was pleasantly surprised to discover Madara did understand tact and that he was surprisingly good at speaking in a way Kagami’s young mind could understand. Not many people with a temper that quick would stop and take the time to explain _why_ the actions had been wrong.

Whatever reply he might have made was set aside when Madara spotted the two of them there and lost all color in his face. Something about seeing Susumu and Tobirama standing next to each other appeared to horrify him. That was definitely something that deserved a little exploration.

“Sensei,” Madara called with a cautious tone. “What terrible things are you up to today?”

“Just the usual. Poisoning my cupcakes, subverting government officials, and having a lovely chat with your young husband here.” Her smile was benign but the mischief in her eyes was all too easy to read when she looked up at the man beside her.

“If I get accused of treason,” Tobirama informed her in a flat tone, “I’m bringing you down with me.”

“Oh I _do_ like you.”

He warily looked away and found Madara watching their exchange thoughtfully. It was hard to tell whether he was more worried or pleased by the idea of them getting along and he never bothered to say anything to make it clear, shaking his head as he delivering one last absent swat up the side of Kagami’s head.

“Came to take the brat for training?” he asked instead. Tobirama nodded. “He came up with a few interesting ways to keep himself entertained until you got here.”

“So I overheard. We’ll have a talk about that.”

Kagami drooped. “Aw man, but I _already_ got in trouble!”

“I never said I was getting you in trouble, Kagami, but we will definitely still be talking about this. Even if it’s just tips on how not to get caught next time.” Contrary to what some might think, he did understand how an expression as blank as his delivering such words might be startling. Nothing about him really screamed ‘I have a sense of humor’. He understood perfectly well why Kagami gaped in surprise before laughing outright and jumping over to hug him around the waist.

The look of utter shock on Madara's face was still extra satisfying, though. Tobirama tried not to appear too smug as he very carefully did not meet his husband’s eyes. Maybe that would show the other man he wasn’t quite the stodgy, formal block of ice that apparently most Uchiha thought him to be. With a soft pat to his new student’s head Tobirama gently pushed him away and murmured that they should head over to the training field so they didn’t waste too much of the time slot he had it booked for.

He only made it three steps away, however, before Susumu caught up to him dragging a frantic looking Madara by the wrist.

“Mind if we tag along?” she asked.

“Do you need a refresher course in the basics?” Tobirama shot back. “This is our first time officially training so I hadn’t planned much more than running him through the basic forms to see where his strengths and weaknesses are. We won’t be doing any actual learning until later.”

“You’re interesting and you don’t strike me as the sort to take shit from anyone. I think it would do both of us a world of good to see you in action.” Susumu tugged on Madara's wrist once before letting go.

Rubbing at his abused limb, Madara glared down at her. “I’d like to say for myself what’s good for me,” he grumbled.

The rest of them ignored him and Tobirama pretended not to see the pout that followed. If ever he had wondered how this man became such good friends with his brother it was obvious now.

While having two spectators hadn’t exactly been part of his agenda it also wasn’t anything he hadn’t had to deal with before. It took a bit to convince Kagami that showing off for their audience would only result in having to run the same drills over and over when the distraction caused him to mess up but after a while Tobirama managed to put anything outside the two of them away from his mind to concentrate on the task at hand.

His analysis was much as he’d expected in some areas and quite the opposite in others. Kagami was physically quite fit and ready to be molded in to a good little soldier but he lacked the discipline usually found in the children of front line warriors. His chakra reserves weren’t very large yet, unsurprising considering his age, but while he didn’t know very many jutsu yet he did show a natural aptitude for molding his natural gifts when Tobirama took him through beginner drills like holding a leaf on his forehead with only chakra while performing physical tasks. All in all the boy had the makings of a skilled shinobi, all he lacked was a deeper knowledge and further training.

Focused as he was, Tobirama very nearly managed to forget about the two watching from afar. Almost. With just a small bit of his chakra infused to focus on his pupil it was hard to entirely ignore two such bright signatures so close to his own. Still, he relegated their presence to the back of his mind until he was finished going over with Kagami the first few weaknesses they would address in their training, ending with a tiny smile as reward for the boy’s patience and good behavior.

Considering their interactions so far it was no surprise that Susumu once again spoke up first when Tobirama approached them.

“Not bad, sugar, not bad at all. I’m curious to see what you’re like in a real fight, though.” She grinned at him but before he could reply Madara groaned beside her and threw a punch that she easily dodged.

“Please no,” he begged. “Please do not embarrass me. I do that just fine on my own, you always say so.”

“Aw, come on little one! You can’t tell me you’re not just a little bit curious!”

Tobirama canted his head to one side, curious. “Is this your way of challenging me to a spar?” he asked. Susumu propped her hands on both hips, striking a pose that would have been much more impressive if she were at least taller than young Kagami. What did give her an imposing edge was the light in her eyes and the warning crackle in her chakra.

“Scared?” she taunted.

“Of you? I don’t have enough data to be frightened. By the look on Madara's face I believe I should be wary but there’s really only one way to tell, isn’t there?” Her energy was surprisingly infectious; Tobirama found himself lifting one eyebrow in a challenge on his own.

He wasn’t very sure what to make of the worried look on Madara's face, uncertain if it was worry for him or for his teacher or even for his own sanity, so he looked away and smiled when Susumu clapped her hands together with childlike glee. She beckoned Kagami over and told him to stay off the field then came forward to offer Tobirama a hand. When he shook it she winked up at him and squeezed his fingers tight enough that his bones creaked in warning.

“You should have said you were scared,” she warning him. “I might have gone easy.”

“And where would the fun be in that?”

“Oh ho ho, _feisty_.” Her chakra was practically bursting at the seams, running through her veins like wildfire in such a way that Tobirama found himself grinning in return.

Kagami immediately began to chatter in his clan heir’s ear while the two combatants set the parameters of their spar. Then Tobirama tuned the rest of the world out with an easy efficiency that he hadn’t been able to achieve before without something like this to focus on. Susumu would be a formidable opponent, he could already tell that before either of them had made the first move. He was probably not going to win this spar. But that wouldn’t stop him from giving his all; it had been much too long since he had a proper sparring partner whose patterns he did not already know by heart. The summer season was fading in to autumn yet the air around them was still warm enough to excuse the slight hint of an excited flush on his cheeks that would have belied how much he was suddenly looking forward to this.

With a mocking bow that only bent his spine a single inch he gestured for Susumu to come at him. She did so with teeth bared and fists raised. As they danced around each other his mind automatically began to catalogue advantages and disadvantages, predictions that formed and fell away as he analyzed her movements. What advantage he gained from his height and easy access to her head she made up for in her own easy access to his knees and the ability to get up inside his guard for easier blows against his trunk. Any awkwardness born through her condition was made up for with heavy training and an impressive knowledge of how to use her own body. Not a single step was wasted, every movement deliberate.

And the kicks. Her kicks were absolutely deadly. For a tiny woman she packed quite a lot of power behind her feet each time she launched herself in the air, fending off his blows with both hands as she spun like a top to deliver devastating attacks that came close to breaking straight through his guard several times.

It rapidly became clear that, although Tobirama was holding his own for now in taijutsu, this was not an area that would grant him an easy win. There was always the chance that his high stamina might outlast hers but that wasn’t something he wanted to rely on without knowing her limits better. The next time Susumu came spinning towards his head he used the rebound of their clash to launch himself backward, taking advantage of those few precious seconds of separation to run through a quick set of hand seals.

Susumu did manage to dodge his water bullets, which wasn’t a surprise, but that wasn’t his main attack anyway. A smirk flitted across Tobirama’s face at hearing the crack of her head against the earth wall he threw up in the path of her dodge. Even if all she did was laugh and throw a massive stream of fire in his direction it was still more than worth it. Tobirama covered his escape with the only thing he could, a spinning wall of air that served no offensive purpose but had saved his life more times than he could count. His preference for water jutsu didn’t do him any good when there wasn’t enough water at hand quick enough and he’d already thrown most of the nearby pond at his opponent with the water bullets; poor foresight on his part, a mistake to throw himself in to the fight with such enthusiasm without planning ahead. He was allowed to get excited as much as the next person.

“Three different elements!” Susumu’s voice called over the scattering of fireballs she was using to keep him distracted, unable to retaliate while he was busy dodging. “I have to admit, I’m impressed!”

“I’m flattered you consider only half of my arsenal impressive,” Tobirama called back with a hint of smugness.

As he’d thought they would, his words gave her just enough pause that he was able to body flicker away. She spotted him when he appeared on the other side of the field but wasn’t able to react fast enough to stop him from pulling at the bandages he habitually wore around his wrists to expose a seal. It was only a simple storage seal, nothing like the still unfinished hiraishin he’d been working on, but what made it truly impressive were the changes he and Mito had spent hours poring over until they were able to seal physical objects in to human skin rather than paper.

The sword he pulled out of what must have looked like thin air was something he knew the Uchiha had been salivating over from afar for generations, a blade very few Senju had ever had the affinity to wield properly, and Tobirama found just a little smear of pride in the way Susumu’s gaze followed the weapon as he spun it in one hand.

“Now it’s a party,” she cackled. Tobirama rolled his eyes. “The Raijin no Ken, I was unaware it had a new bearer.”

“I’m just full of surprises,” he called back dryly.

“Let’s see how many more you’ve got up your sleeve!”

For all that the sword was rumored to make its bearer invincible, however, it soon became clear that Susumu needed no such gimmicks to augment her own power. With nothing more than the standard kunai in her holster she was able to meet and parry every attack her threw at her, dodging strikes of lightning with the ease of a young maiden following the steps of a barn dance. It was twice as frustrating when Tobirama realized she was only playing with him. No matter how hard he tried or what trick he pulled Susumu met every move without even having the decency to look harried by his efforts.

Finally there came a moment when something shifted between them and Tobirama wasn’t sure how he knew but the way his opponent fought had changed and something about that told him the end was coming, she had gotten tired of playing. Their spar was about to end. As a last ditch effort he brought his fingers together in a rapid set of seals and brought one hand to his mouth.

Susumu knocked his hands apart with one foot, the momentum of her kick carrying her body around for the other foot to crack against the side of his head and send him careening sideways. The world flew by in melded colors, both ears ringing from the blow, and by the time Tobirama was able to right himself he found Susumu standing over him with a feral grin and a blade to his throat. He blinked once and fell still as soon as he felt cold steel against the tenuous skin over his thundering pulse.

“Gotcha,” Susumu cackled. A triumphant laugh bubbled up between her lips only to fade away when she saw the mischievous sparkle in his eye. Tobirama winked and then opened his mouth to release the fire jutsu she thought she had interrupted, a short puff of flame that hit her square in the face.

It did little more than singe her eyebrows, of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to fry the face off such a powerful ally, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he _could_ have fried her face off if this were a real battle and from the mixture of delight and consternation in her expression it was obvious that his opponent understood that. Susumu jerked upright with her free hand already patting around her face to assess the damage. Upon finding only a few hair follicles missing she tossed her head back and laughed so hard Tobirama worried she might drop her kunai in his leg.

“Brilliant!” she crowed. “Who won the fight? Who knows! Both! Nobody! You cheeky little slice of cheese!”

“If I might get up now?” Tobirama murmured, trying to keep his satisfaction in check. He accepted the hand that was offered to him and Susumu stepped away from where she had been standing over his legs to make room for him to right himself again.

Then he almost went tumbling back to the ground as Susumu caught him in the hip with a ‘friendly’ punch that was perhaps a little too enthusiastic.

“Knew you’d do good but _damn_ that was a neat little trick at the end. You, you’re a good egg too, aren’t you? Five elemental releases! I haven’t seen that outside of our clan in quite some time!”

“Nonsense, the Nara have at least two who’ve mastered all the elements.” His protests had less to do with modesty and more to do with his obsessive habit of keeping all shared information correct. The Nara did in fact have two women who were capable of doing as he did, although both of them were well older and had taken longer to master the abilities. Tobirama mostly attributed that to their habitual laziness more than anything else.

“Still impressive,” Susumu allowed and he nodded in acceptance.

Before he could say anything else Kagami came stumbling across the field with Madara trailing behind at a much more sedate pace, both of them wearing differing degrees of awe on their faces. “Sensei! Sensei that was amazing! You’re _so cool_! Will you teach me how to do that? I want to spit fire in baachan’s face too!”

“Who are you calling baachan!?”

“You’re old!”

With an offended shriek Susumu turned to chase Kagami, who sprinted away across the field in terror. Obviously she could have caught him in less than a few seconds but, probably just to entertain herself, she chose not to augment her speed and instead pattered after him around the torn up training grounds, leaving Madara and Tobirama standing awkwardly together. Which, Tobirama realized after taking another peek at Madara's face, might actually have been the entire reason she chose to play chase with a child.

His husband was looking at him with the closest thing he had seen to actual hesitation on the man’s face in all the time they had known each other. While they might not have any history of getting along Madara did have at least a couple qualities that Tobirama was able to begrudgingly admire, one of which was the confidence he exuded in his every move, the way he chose a path and walked it without allowing doubts to slow him down. It wasn’t clear what he was doubting at the moment, his own misinterpretations or one of the rumors Tobirama usually pretended not to know about, but really all that mattered was the lack of hostility in the way he shuffled just a little closer.

“You really can use all five releases,” he murmured. “You mentioned it in passing and I meant to ask but then you sort of steamrolled over me with some other stuff that…well I got distracted. I can only react to so many things at once.”

Tobirama wanted to say that if he’d known Madara found that interesting he would have brought it up before. Except he knew it wasn’t true. If he’d known anything that Madara found interesting he would have spent the last couple of months burying whatever that thing was under as much dirt and rubble as he could find and maybe asking Hashirama to grow a tree over the grave. Only their recent interactions could be seen in any sort of positive light and even then he would call most of their exchanges cautionary at best.

He wasn’t sure what made him say it. Maybe the childish need to stick his proverbial tongue out at the man for treating him so poorly when he didn’t think he’d deserved it.

“I’ll let you know if I think of anything else about me that you might find impressive.” As soon as the word were out Tobirama wanted to cringe and take them back. For all the bad blood between them Madara had been oddly less than confrontational lately and the last thing he wanted to do was ramp up the antagonism between them again. He was relieved when Madara let out a single bark of laughter.

“Do that. Whatever other surprises you’ve gotten hidden up your sleeves they have to be more interesting than listening to Hashirama babble on about his stupid plants.”

Tobirama quirked up one side of his mouth in a smile that he hoped revealed nothing of what he was actually thinking about. It had been a long time since he met someone who preferred him over Hashirama in any sort of way, his brother being much warmer and easier to befriend. Even without his other triumphs that single innocuous sentence was enough to make this a good day in his books. It was always nice to be appreciated.

With his first session training Kagami going off without a hitch and the pride of having impressed Susumu, clearly an influential part of Madara's life and a strong member of the Uchiha clan, impressing his husband _and_ making him laugh was unexpected icing on the cake of an already good day.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite sharing an office with two other Senju who had chosen to devote themselves to administrative duties over active missions, on a day to day basis Tobirama found himself alone more often than not. His two office-mates were both the busybody type prone to sticking their noses in to other people’s business but it served them well when they had both also taken on perhaps more duties than wise. Most of their time was spent in other people’s offices speaking about one project or another, sometimes milling around in what was coming to be known as the Mission Room to gather information from their returning soldiers.

Usually Tobirama had very little problems with the way this worked out for him. The rare occasions when one of his office partners took it in to their heads to bother him about his own work were well worth suffering through to earn his own quiet space the large majority of the time. In fact, it was only now as he sat staring across the desk at a middle-aged woman with all the markings of a civilian that he realized there might be one downside to having the room to himself.

He didn’t have anyone to fall back on for picking up his slack with socializing.

Though he tried his best not to look too intimidating or disinterested, there was only so much he could do without slipping over in to Hashirama territory and greeting her with a hug or some other garish nonsense. The woman stared back at him as one does when faced with a particularly daunting task and visibly steeled herself before stepping further in to the room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said and Tobirama shook his head.

“Paperwork is patient – sometimes. How may I help you?”

“Oh I don’t – um. I don’t need any help. Actually I was hoping to present Tobirama-sama with a gift if that- if that’s okay?” Clearly nervous, she still managed to gather the courage to step a little closer and clutch tightly at the satchel she was wearing on one side.

Intrigued, Tobirama blinked. “A gift? I’m not sure I’ve done anything to earn such things.”

“Well, um, Tobirama-sama might think of it as more of an apology.”

At the curious tilt of his head the woman rummaged through her satchel in a flurry of motion before holding out a small package with both hands shaking ever so slightly from the tension in her body. The package itself was wrapped in plain blue cloth and tied neatly with a white bow. Tobirama took it from her more because he was worried she might think he was rejecting her offer than anything else, a little too stunned to know how he should be reacting himself.

“I can’t imagine what you need to apologize for,” he murmured, one eye on the package and the other on his guest. Her looks were distinctly Uchiha if one were able to see past the softness of her civilian musculature and the unusually light shade of her hair.

“When Tobirama-sama came to the clan we did our best to respect your traditions and treat you as we thought you would expect to be treated. Madara-sama has spoken to us and told us of the insult we gave by accident. We didn’t mean to!” Her buried bow rather neatly covered the way Tobirama’s jaw hung loose with shock. “Please consider this gift an apology from my friends and me in the marketplace. We only sought to make Tobirama-sama more comfortable but in our ignorance we–”

“Please,” Tobirama interrupted her, half standing from his chair and reaching out as though to physical stop her from bowing. “There’s no need to apologize. I was never angry.” Well, not after the situation was explained to him and he’d had time to calm down. He’d been sad, of course, but he wasn’t going to mention that to this earnest woman here trying to make amends for something that wasn’t her fault. Feeling extraordinarily awkward, Tobirama looked down at the gift in his hands and murmured, “You really didn’t have to get me something.”

With slow words the woman pursed her lips and asked, “Does Tobirama-sama wish for me to take the gift back?”

“Let’s not start a loop of accidentally offending each other, I beg you.” Rubbing the space between his brows, he nearly missed it when his guest began to laugh.

“Of course not, my lord.”

He opened his mouth to tell her she didn’t need to call him lord or anything of the kind but she spoke just before he could, dismissing herself and bowing out of the room with well wishes and urgings for him to enjoy the present. Tobirama slumped back in to his seat without really knowing how he felt.

The gift itself was surprise enough but to know that Madara had spoken to his people, presumably at one of the clan meetings Tobirama had never bothered to attend, and explained how their good intentions had gone wrong? Of all the kindnesses he never would have expected from his husband that was something he wouldn’t have even thought to put on the list. It was downright thoughtful.

Such a gesture deserved one in return, of course. Tobirama knew enough from observing other marriages in his own clan to know that give deserved take. The main problem was that he had no idea what gesture he could make in return. All the things he thought he knew about Madara from exchanging letters had been rendered unreliable by the discovery that it hadn’t been Madara he’d written to after all and it wasn’t as though he’d spent a great deal of time getting to know the man since their wedding night. If the last couple of weeks had told him anything it was that he should probably do so now. Better late than never.

First, however, he needed to open the bundle he was still holding absently between both hands. Soft blue cloth rustled softly as he gently set it down to fiddle with the bow. Just cutting the white ribbon felt like a disservice despite there being no one here to judge him for his present opening habits so Tobirama took a moment to pick the bow apart and slide it off, allowing the cloth wrapping to slough down and reveal the contents. He recognized the packaging as soon as he laid his eyes on it and smiled. Surely it must have been nothing more than a lucky guess for the woman and her friends to pick out his favorite incense, the same scent he’d been burning since his mother passed away because it carried so many memories of her, but he could appreciate lucky guesses when they hit the mark so well.

The gift included a new burner which Tobirama very carefully put away in his desk drawer so he could decide where to set it up later. He didn’t want his officemates using it without asking and there was little point in setting it up in either his lab or his home since one was not an environment for open heat sources and the other he still didn’t devote more time to than necessary.

It was with that in mind that he checked the time and stretched his senses in search of Madara. Unusually considering it was the end of the work day his husband was making his way up to the top floor of the tower to drop off whatever files he needed to in his father’s office, something he normally did at lunch. Tobirama did not envy him that duty. Tensions had been high between the two founders of their village over the past little while leaving everyone but the two heirs grateful that they were afforded the distance of sending their work by courier. The runners, at least, never seemed to get yelled at for bearing bad news. It was easy enough to have everything of his own work squared away by the time Madara's chakra signature backed out of Tajima’s office to descend the main staircase.

At first sight his husband paid him no more attention than they usually afforded each other when passing in the hallways. Tobirama figured he had only himself to blame for the necessity of turning quickly on his heel to fall in step with the man he was looking for.

“Did you need something?” Madara's voice carried the faintest overtones of apology and Tobirama very carefully looked straight ahead as he answered.

“Nothing,” he admitted. “We’re both leaving. I just thought we might walk together – if you are headed towards home, that is.” Too late it occurred to him that Madara might have made other plans for his evening than hanging around in a house where he usually found himself alone.

Just in time to be as annoying as all older siblings were destined to be, Hashirama appeared between them a moment later and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. “Ready to go?”

“Ah.” Tobirama desperately hoped he didn’t look quite as awkward as he felt.

“Oh, I almost didn’t see you there, Tobi!” Hashirama smiled and tried to clap him on the shoulder as well, a gesture he brushed away before it could connect.

“Get your eyes checked, I’m not even the same color as _anything_ in this hallway.”

“Hey!”

Ignoring that pout was easy after a lifetime of practice. Tobirama blinked past him at Madara and decided he didn’t even want to make an attempt to figure out what thoughts were going on behind that strange expression. He’d already embarrassed himself, the best thing to do now if he wanted to salvage his pride would be to bow out with grace and not make a scene.

Madara had other ideas, apparently.

“Go away, Hashirama,” he grunted shortly. Tobirama blinked while Hashirama clasped his chest like he’d been stabbed.

“But we were going for tea!”

Trying to be subtle, Tobirama shook his head and murmured, “You are free to go enjoy your tea.”

“I said go away. We can have tea tomorrow.” Madara retaliated to the kindly greeting his friend had given him by clapping Hashirama so hard between the shoulder blades that he stumbled and then stepped around him to pull Tobirama away by the sleeve. “Don’t give me those sad eyes, you just spent all day with me! You’ll survive without tea. Go home to your wife.”

“You didn’t have to ruin your plans,” Tobirama told him as soon as they stepped outside and left Hashirama out of earshot. “I really didn’t need anything important.”

“Maybe I was just tired of his face.” Underneath the gruff bravado Madara's voice still sounded vaguely apologetic and that was just embarrassing enough for Tobirama to shut his mouth with a light cough. He was the one who had interrupted previously made plans but there was no way he was having this ‘no need to apologize’ conversation twice in one day.

He settled for an awkward nod and trying to remember what he was supposed to do with his arms while walking. Why, he asked himself as they both joined the crowds choking the streets, had he thought this was a nice gesture? Not a single topic of conversation occurred to him no matter how desperately he wished to fill the silence. Instead they rounded two corners and crossed at least a quarter of the distance back to their shared domicile in utter silence, occasionally peeking over at each other only to look away in a hurry when their eyes met unexpectedly.

At some point the crowds began to thin and by the time they passed out of the village center in to the more residential areas they were nearly alone on each street. Tobirama continued to wrack his brain for something to say all the way up until Madara finally broke the tension.

“Were you…planning to stay in tonight?” he asked. Tobirama was glad they weren’t standing still, which made it much easier to resist the urge to shuffle his feet like a nervous child.

“Unless you were hoping to invite guests. I wouldn’t wish to intrude.”

“S’your house too,” Madara said under his breath.

An odd thrill ran through Tobirama’s limbs when he heard that and he found himself asking, “Is there anything in particular you might like for dinner? I wouldn’t mind cooking.”

“Oh. Uh. I don’t know, whatever you feel like making should be fine.”

He was indescribably grateful that Madara didn’t bother with any polite refusals or asking if he was sure because just making the offer in the first place had taken enough courage and he wasn’t sure he could have defended his own decision. Not when convincing himself to make it in the first place had already needed so much effort. The thrill of success felt a little like electricity at his fingertips, though, and he found that his thoughts were much clearer now that the silence wasn’t quite so stifling between them.

“I was thinking gyudon. Not that difficult to make and it’s nice to have something other than fish at least every once in a while.” Also from what he could remember of the last time he poked his nose in to the kitchen for a quick meal he was fairly sure they had everything he would need to make gyudon.

“That sounds fine. You…like fish?”

“My favorite. Any kind of fish, really, but there’s this one kind I tried the last time I was in Uzushio–” Without even realizing what he was doing Tobirama hared off on a tangent about one of his biggest passions outside of anything related to battle: the many and varied seafood dishes he had enjoyed in his lifetime. Madara actually asked a few questions so it wasn’t until he saw their house down the street that he realized he’d just babbled away their entire journey about _fish_. In his efforts to build more positive relations between them he had probably just alienated the man by painting himself as a boring idiot with nothing better to talk about.

A great deal of effort went in to snapping his jaw shut to cut off the flow of inane chatter and Tobirama silently made a few unflattering comparisons between himself and his brother as they stepped in to the house together. They busied themselves with kicking off their regulation sandals and setting them in neat little pairs on opposite sides of the genkan. While Madara pulled off the light coat he’d thrown over his typical robes and hung it up Tobirama scurried out of the way and turned towards the kitchen.

The first thing he did was open the fridge and shove his head out of sight behind the door where he could squeeze his eyes shut and berate himself for being so stubbornly awkward. Never before had he had such trouble communicating with other people – and that was saying something considering how stiff and unapproachable even his own reserved clan tended to find him. Yet here he was with a husband of his own and years of lessons in the Senju traditions all running through his mind telling him exactly how to charm his spouse, make the best of the life he had been given, and still he found his brain as empty as a leaking sieve.

Before he could do anything as telling as give himself a tight slap across the mouth to get his thoughts in order Madara stepped hesitantly in to the kitchen as well, forcing Tobirama to scramble for the ingredients he would need and pull away from his hiding spot.

“Would you like some help?” Madara offered. “I can prepare the vegetables if you prepare the beef.”

“Oh. Yes. I would- thank you.”

The break in his words seemed to amuse Madara, if nothing else. Tobirama supposed laughing at him for tripping on his own speech was better than scowling darkly at him for daring to step foot inside the home before night had fallen.

With a startling amount of ease the two of them danced around each other in the limited kitchen space, each attending to their own half of the preparations. Tobirama could have sworn he felt Madara's eyes on him a few times as he sliced the meat and cracked a few eggs in to a clean bowl but each time he turned to look he found the man’s eyes locked on to the onions and scallions before him. Either he was imagining things or his hyper awareness of every move they both made was playing tricks on his mind.

He had only just added the onions to the pan he’d been heating when Madara once again proved himself the braver of the two of them in social situations like this, keeping his attention on the sauce ingredients he was measuring out.

“I understand you were part of the meeting with the Inuzuka delegation?” he waited until Tobirama nodded the affirmative before going on. “What’s your impression of them?” Tobirama kept his face towards the onions to cover up the shock that his opinion might count for something.

“Loud,” he murmured because that was the first thing that came to mind. “An uncouth bunch from my experiences, although they make excellent trackers and their skills on the battlefield are not to be sneezed at. If they are allotted a separate compound as most of the other larger clans have asked for then I don’t foresee many problems with their integration beyond the usual phase of finding where they fit in best and who they get along with the easiest.”

“The adjustment period.” Madara nodded agreeably.

“Precisely.”

Stirring his onions and pulling the sliced beef a bit closer in preparation, Tobirama dared to peek over at his husband. Not so much at his expression, thoughtful and focused on their conversation as he appeared to be, but rather at the man himself. Long dark lashes framing deep set eyes with permanent dark circles that would not have worked on any other face. Cheeks that never quite lost the final bit of baby fat, puffing out with indignation and rage almost every time he left the house. Small bits of hair broke off from the thick tangle flowing down his back to hang down and frame his face like a living portrait. All in all he made quite the image. Enough so that Tobirama came very close to getting lost in that image until Madara turned to him with a questioning lift of one brow.

“No qualms with them, then? You’ll welcome them in to the village once they finally sign the treaty like everyone else?”

“Well…I could live without the dogs they insist on taking with them everywhere.” Tobirama wrinkled his nose. He understood the bonds they made with their companions but…

“If they kept cats I would be much more enthusiastic to have them here.”

He blinked, not expecting to have his thoughts given voice. “I feel much the same. Cats are cleaner, quieter, and much more suited to the life of a shinobi who _doesn’t_ wish to announce their presence ten minutes before they arrive anywhere.”

“Exactly! I’m sure there must be some nice folk among the Inuzuka but…they’re just so loud, them and the dogs both. We’re not likely to make great friends off of the battlefield.” Madara shook his head.

“Your territory was a little closer to theirs than ours was before the village was built and I have to say”-Tobirama paused to smirk-“I don’t envy you that. Allow me to thank you now for keeping them occupied and saving me the headache of dealing with them more often.”

“Little shit.” Madara rolled his eyes but he too was smiling and Tobirama felt like he’d won a medal.

“I already had Hashirama to deal with. Adding the Inuzuka in to the mix would have driven me crazy before I reached double digits.” Just thinking about it made him shudder. He couldn’t imagine what sort of madness he would have had to put up with if he’d had to battle Hashirama’s frequent idiocies on top of smelling the Inuzuka’s dogs every time he stepped outside the compound walls.

He doubted any of them had even _tried_ owning cats, the heartless bastards.

Madara, on the other hand, appeared to be a smarter man than Tobirama knew in that he also preferred cats to dogs. On the list of things he thought they might have in common he really should have expected that one considering the relationship between the Uchiha clan and the ninneko hidden beneath the streets of Sora-ku. Tobirama had never been able to keep a pet cat before, not wanting to set off Hashirama’s allergies, but he wondered if maybe now Madara might be okay with it. Village life lent itself much better to keeping pets anyway.

“That’s very fair. Much as your brother has become a very dear friend I don’t know that I would survive living with him.” His husband laughed and Tobirama was surprised to feel jealously at his words. A friend, Madara had called him, and he trusted that Hashirama felt only the same in return. There was no need to worry himself about whatever relationship was building between the two of them but they had at least a kind of relationship and for that he envied his own sibling.

“If I know my brother then he’s probably invited you to stay the night after dinner several times.” Tobirama finally deemed the beef cooked well enough and slowly began to add in the ingredients for the sauce. “Perhaps you should take him up on the offer sometime and experience for yourself the horrors I’ve had to put up with.”

“Like?”

“Ugh, like his morning breath.”

Apparently that wasn’t the sort of answer Madara was expecting because it startled a booming laugh out of him, unselfconscious and free in a way Tobirama was sure he himself had never managed in his life. Mirth painted twin circles of pink across Madara's cheeks and the look was so nice on him that Tobirama nearly forgot to stir the gyudon to keep their dinner from burning. Unsurprising, that. Physical attraction had never been the problem between them; Tobirama could remember having to control his face very strictly upon catching his first glimpse of the beauty he was to be married to. The trouble had been their spectacular skills in miscommunication up until recently.

When their meal was finally ready he was pleased to have kept the conversation going with the same light tone and not a single argument yet. By the time he had served two generous bowls and sat down with the drinks Madara poured for them he was feeling more optimistic about the future than he had in half a year. With just a little extra effort it seemed they were able to get along after all, which gave him hope for the things he had been groomed to wait his entire life for.

A happy home and a partner to lean on when the days were long, what more could anyone ask for in life? If he tried hard to keep things moving as they had been lately he, too, might have those things. Watching the smile on Madara's face as they circled back to a happy discussion of why cats were far superior to dogs, seeing the languid way he sat in his chair as though they had no reason to be ill at ease around each other, Tobirama thought to himself that for the first time since their wedding he could finally see the man who might someday become a proper husband.


	11. Chapter 11

Madara was more than used to waking up to find himself alone in bed. It was sort of a habit at this point to roll on to his back and sprawl out in the open spaces that he knew would have been long vacated. He was startled this morning to finish his morning ritual with a jaw-cracking yawn and a stretch of his body and senses only to find a familiar chakra signature burning mutely in the kitchen a floor below. It was so strange to lie in bed and feel the calm cool feeling of Tobirama completely at ease in their kitchen, stationary even this long past sunrise, that Madara very nearly found himself lulled back asleep before he realized the unique opportunity presented to him.

It had been months since he’d eaten breakfast anything but alone but it looked like that might finally change if he could hurry his ass out of bed.

Never in his life had Madara rolled out of the blankets and thrown on his clothing so quickly, including the time their compound had been raided when he was fifteen years old. Although to be fair he’d been battling his first hangover at the time and for several minutes had confused the clangor of the alarm bells with the pounding in his head. Still, he was mildly impressed with his own speed as he managed to clothe his body in record time and all but fly down the staircase where he forced himself to assume a more orderly pace. There was no need for Tobirama to see him acting like such a fool just so the two of them could at least make friends.

A curious face awaited him when he stepped in to the kitchen and Madara did his best to keep his greeting casual, projecting an aura of seeing nothing out of the ordinary. They both knew how strange it was for them to go about the beginning of their days at the same time when Tobirama usually would have been long gone before Madara left the bed but there was little point in making a big deal out of anything.

“Have you eaten?” Madara asked, reaching for the coffee pot and almost startled to find the liquid inside still warm. It was a blessing to pour himself a cup without going through the effort of brewing it first.

“No.” Tobirama shifted with a faintly guilty expression. “I don’t usually eat much in the mornings so I’m fine, no need to worry.”

“Because you…don’t have time?” His guess hit the mark perhaps a bit too well judging by Tobirama’s wince but Madara forged ahead with one hand already reaching for a pan. “Right, well, looks like there’s plenty of time today. Would you like some eggs?”

“Yes. Please.”

At least he wasn’t the only one who suffered from not being quite sure how to act around his husband yet. It was a large relief every time he noticed Tobirama floundering a little while they both tried to figure out where things stood between them now that they weren’t determined to never look each other in the eye and how to improve their shaky relations without any more accidental insults.

Eggs were a quick and easy meal so it wasn’t long before the two of them were seated across from each other just as they had been the night before during dinner. Tobirama mumbled compliments under his breath and Madara soaked them up without bothering to look for ulterior motives. After a couple of minor false starts he was even able to get a conversation going about the plans being drawn up for providing electricity to more of the residential areas. During the initial build Tobirama hadn’t been able to convince enough people that it should be installed in all buildings rather than just businesses and governing facilities, although he had accidentally inspired them to install power in the homes of all head families as a way of appeasing each clan for the compromises they made when signing their name on the treaty.

They were nearly done their meal when Madara looked out the window and sighed. It was such a nice day, much too nice to spend so many hours in a stuffy office as he would soon have to.

“What are your plans for the day?” he asked, wistful for anything that wasn’t the paperwork waiting on his desk.

“I usually spend some time in the mornings working in my lab,” Tobirama said. “Since I, ah, didn’t make it there today I might do so after work. Very likely I’ll need that time to myself. Most of my day has been scheduled for meetings in all different corners of the village and none of them promise to be easy on my patience.”

Madara snickered in to the bottom of his coffee mug. “Is that you who has to meet with the Labor Relations Board? Only a few months in and they’re already getting complaints, I can’t believe it.”

“The people need to know we care about them.” Despite his words Tobirama already looked annoyed just thinking about the stupidity he would have to sit through later. Madara did not envy him that duty. He’d never been very good at representing the little person without someone there, usually Hikaku, to provide him with a little perspective. Right now he needed to seek a little perspective of his own.

“Well if you’re not in too terrible of a mood after all that I wouldn’t mind seeing what this lab of yours is like. I have to admit, I’m very curious.”

“Really?” He knew he’d said the right thing immediately when Tobirama’s eyes lit up with the same ecstatic brilliance as they had the last time he accidentally went off on a tangent involving his studies. “You’d really like to see my work?”

Madara nodded decisively. “I can’t promise to understand any of it but from what Hashirama tells me it all sounds very interesting. And useful; he told me about a few of your inventions. Until he said something about it I never really thought about who _invented_ any of the jutsu we use. I’ve always just taken it for granted that we learn them from other people and never gave any thought to where they originated.”

“It’s a complicated process,” Tobirama murmured. He did look pleased that someone seemed interested in what Hashirama had called his greatest passion. The small taste of what that passion looked like had left Madara eager to see more, to see that brilliant smile again.

“Would you be open to showing me some of that process?” he asked.

“Yes, if you’re sure you won’t be bored.”

Madara had the phrase ‘not with you explaining things’ on the tip of his tongue and only just barely managed to bite down on it to keep the words behind his teeth. He had absolutely no idea where that came from. Flirting wasn’t exactly something that came naturally to him but even if it were he and Tobirama didn’t have that sort of relationship. Sure they were married and yes the man was more than a sight for sore eyes no matter how ragged and tired he always looked but Madara wasn’t sure what had gotten in to him that he had almost started flirting before they even really settled in to getting along properly.

He went for shaking his head instead and shoving the last bite of eggs in his mouth. Like a mirror of yesterday they walked to work side by side after breakfast was done but unlike yesterday the conversation was much easier to maintain with the awkwardness of first attempts already under their belts. When they separated Madara felt buoyed by the light of hope. Susumu-sensei had indeed had a good point when she told him that it would be better to at least get along than to spend the rest of their lives hating the sight of each other. It hurt that he would never have the chance to fall in love, sure, but that didn’t mean he had to be completely miserable. If nothing else he had the chance to build a strong friendship with Tobirama, who he had to admit was pretty interesting now that they were making friendly overtures.

The first half of the day went by fairly quickly with his good mood uninterrupted. With Hashirama out of the office conducting building inspections he had the office all to himself and took full advantage of that to race through nearly twice as much paperwork as he normally would have gotten done in that time. After enjoying a pleasant lunch with Izuna and Hikaku in the office they both shared with a young woman from the Hatake clan he headed back to work only to discover that all the things he’d gotten done had been replaced with just as much work. His mood was dampened a little further when Hashirama returned in a sour funk of his own; apparently some of the buildings he’d raised with his Mokuton had since be torn apart for the new residents to make expansions or renovations and the very idea that his hastily made cookie cutter homes weren’t ideal for every single person in the village didn’t appear to sit very well. Madara did not appreciate having to placate the big baby on top of his added workload.

It was a relief to step out of the office at the end of the day and know that the next was his day off. His first stop was Tobirama’s office, knocking politely on the frame and hiding a smile of amusement when Tobirama jerked so hard he tossed his pencil across the desk, just barely managing to snatch it before it rolled off on to the floor.

“Ah. Is it…what time is it?” Tobirama glanced at the shadows on the wall with some surprise.

“Hmph. I wish my work was interesting enough to get that involved in it,” Madara grumbled. When he stepped forward to see what Tobirama was doing he raised both eyebrows to see not any of the forms they were all used to drowning themselves in for hours at a time but several pages of unintelligible diagrams.

“No these aren’t- I _should_ have been working. But then it crossed my mind that I really shouldn’t be working on any of my more dangerous experiments with you there so I was trying to decide which of them was safe enough and then I had an idea that I knew I would forget if I didn’t write it down. I…tend to lose myself in these things quite easily.” With a faintly embarrassed twist of his mouth he added, “Hashirama likes to harp on me for it.”

Madara watched him scramble to clean up his things. “What, he doesn’t like seeing you enjoy yourself?”

“Um, it’s not that. I think it’s more my habit of forgetting to eat or sleep for twenty to thirty hours at a time that he objects to. I never mean to!” He added at the shocked look he was suddenly getting.

“You–!? Wow. Okay, so, if I haven’t seen you in a full day then check the lab. Got it.” Madara shook his head, in doing so almost missed the startled look Tobirama gave him. He pretended not to see it anyway. Did the man expect him not to care at all?

Okay it would be fair if that was his expectation but still.

As he packed up and they made their way out of the building Tobirama recounted a tale of the time Hashirama had to break down the door of his lab and restrain him with reinforced chains of mokuton in order to drag him away from a project that consumed him so badly he had already passed out twice yet refused to stop. Madara was duly horrified.

The journey to Tobirama’s lab wasn’t anywhere near as long as Madara thought it would be. When they turned in to the Senju district he thought perhaps they would pass through and leap the outer wall of the village to some secret grove or a hidden location. Then they turned down a familiar street he had walked before and he questioned if his husband had forgotten where they were supposed to be going. At the last minute, however, they turned aside and instead of entering Hashirama’s home they stepped in to the backyard of the house just next door where Tobirama unsealed the entrance to a basement cellar.

“Whose house are we breaking in to?” he asked as he was led down the surprisingly clean stairs.

“It’s not breaking in if the basement was specifically given to me. I have permission to come and go as I please, don’t worry.”

“That did not answer my question.”

“If you must know this is Touka’s house. My cousin?”

Madara paused to cringe. “The scary one who always looks like she wants to eat my head? The one who somehow managed to congratulate me on becoming Head of Security while also implying she would feed my intestines to a rabid wolf if I displeased her at the same time?”

“She does have a way with words, doesn’t she?” Tobirama was _laughing_ at him, the likeable bastard.

Then they stepped through another door at the bottom of the stairs and all thoughts were pushed away from Madara's head as he took in the weird wonders of the first laboratory he’d ever seen. All the little bottles and chemicals he’d been picturing were there, neatly tucked away on their shelves with labels in tidy handwriting, but that was only one section of the massive room. The far wall was entirely covered with diagrams and notes all tacked up in nonsensical patterns he couldn’t hope to unravel. The counter that ran all the way around the circumference of the room was busy just below that display with stacks of note books and papers that Madara couldn’t see from where he was. Another portion of the counter was riddled with burns scars and the wall itself above that area was covered in hand written calculations.

When he finally managed to pull his eyes away from the madness he found Tobirama with both hands on his hips as he gazed around the room as well with a look of pride in his eyes.

“You made all this mess in just a few months?” Madara demanded.

“Hey now, this isn’t mess! It’s – okay, yes, it’s messy but this is science! These are breakthroughs! Just think of all the answers I can find in this one room, all the problems I can solve!”

“From what I hear you make more problems than you solve.” Madara smirked when Tobirama spun around to glare at him. “It sounds fun.”

A beat passed and then Tobirama returned his smile. Clearly the man was excited to show him around so Madara allowed himself to be led from station to station. Half of the scientific mumbo jumbo flew straight over his head but the bits that did stick in his brain sounded only logical and the base purpose for some of the projects did indeed seem very interesting to him.

One of the seals Tobirama was working on was an improvement on the storage seal that he hoped would be able to seal living beings inside for easy and rapid transport or unexpected assassinations. Being able to mail yourself to a target and then bursting out of the paper to end their life without a fight? Madara could definitely see the uses in that. And the potential for hilarity.

Throughout the little tour Madara noticed probably a solid half of the papers littered about all ended with thick question marks and when he questioned it Tobirama rubbed at his eyes with a tired expression.

“I can only get so far with my own mind,” he murmured. “There are so many areas of study I simply don’t have access to so I run in to dead ends with…alarming frequency. It’s very frustrating. There’s so many things that I _know_ I’m close to having the answer for but I don’t have any sort of reference to tell me whether I’m on the right track or where to look next and it all falls to the wayside.”

“So you, what, need more books?” Madara guessed.

With a snort Tobirama nodded. “Yes, I need more books. People always underestimate books!”

“Huh. Well, why don’t you go check out the library then?”

“I have. I’ve scoured the library from one end to the other and read almost every tome we have available to the public.”

“That’s – wow. A lot of reading. But that isn’t what I meant.” Jerking a thumb over one shoulder back towards home, Madara asked, “Why don’t you look through the clan library? There’s a lot of stuff in there that we weren’t willing to allow the public access to.”

Tobirama knew that, of course. He had to since he was the one who had originally suggested it as part of the treaty between them, the sharing of knowledge, but it had been discarded as a major concession during the negotiations. Madara wondered what could make someone as clearly genius as his husband forget about something like that – then Tobirama opened his mouth and Madara realized that it wasn’t a matter of forgetting after all. Just another bad communication.

“You would let me in to the Uchiha Clan’s private library?” he asked, seemingly dumbfounded. Madara blinked at him.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I…” Tobirama frowned and looked away and Madara realized easily what he’d been about to say.

“The library,” he said firmly, “is freely open to all Uchiha. When you married me you took my name. You _are_ part of the clan now so there’s really no reason you should be denied access to our knowledge unless you plan to use it for purposes detrimental to the those around you.”

His cheeks pinking a little with shame, Tobirama nodded. Then he brightened and Madara was treated to the sight of sheer awe dawning over his expression as it hit home that there was an entire building full of knowledge just waiting for him to explore. “I suddenly have very important plans for tomorrow,” he whispered under his breath.

Madara snorted.

“Why do I get the impression that I’m going to be dragging you out of books to make you sleep instead of this lab?” He did his best to infuse his voice with as much exasperation as he could but the truth was that it didn’t actually sound all that bad to him. Tracking Tobirama down and dragging him away from his research just to eat a proper meal or make sure he slept for at least a few hours, that sounded almost domestic and the very thought of it was oddly peaceful. “Now come on, you promised me cool science things. Do some science!”

“Look, you don’t just ‘do some science’ in a lab. My studies are all very intricate and require hours of research and theoretical work and even setting up the safety precautions can be difficult!”

“So are you going to set something on fire for me or not?”

Visibly trying not to smile, Tobirama replied, “Yes, I can set something on fire for you.”

It was surprisingly difficult for Madara to resist clapping his hands like a child when Tobirama showed him the trick of adding just the right amount of two chemicals together to create a small contained flame. He was just as excited to learn _how_ flash powder worked as he had been the first time he saw it in the field and the raw delight on Tobirama’s face when his demonstrations received such a positive reaction was extraordinary to behold.

When his husband pulled down a scroll from one of the top shelves Madara's imagination ran wild considering all the possibilities that could lay inside, knowing that anything he could think up was probably only half as incredible as the reality. Clearly he was not the one with the bigger imagination between the two of them.

“This is something of a prototype,” Tobirama told him. “It’s something I tinker with every once in a while to clear my head when I hit a brick wall in one of my other projects and it’s something that- well I didn’t exactly have you in mind when I first conceived of it but I can certainly picture you wielding this on the battlefield.” His eyes took on a slightly manic glint as he spoke and Madara had to admit he really liked that look.

“What’s it do?”

Setting it down, Tobirama turned the scroll so they could both see the kanji for flames painted on to the end.

“My original plan was to harness kinetic energy to mix with the elements so that if someone ever found themselves with low chakra they could use this without the need for any big flashy jutsu. The only element I can’t seem to get it to work for is fire but when I do, well, just imagine the destruction you could cause. Fire that can be thrown a great distance with next to no effort!” 

“Please show me,” Madara breathed, causing Tobirama to laugh a little.

“I said I couldn’t get it to work, remember? I can show you the seal though. Mostly all I’ve been able to do is get it to explode.”

As Tobirama uncapped the scroll to open it up as promised Madara gaped at him stupidly. “You made it _explode_? With you standing next to it!? I thought Hashirama’s horror stories had to be exaggerated!”

“No, actually he prefers not to think about the worst messes he’s pulled me out of. There was that time with – ah, it’s not that important. We got the leg reattached anyway and I walk _fine_. I don’t know why he still whimpers whenever I bring it up.” He was rolling his eyes, of all things, while he weighted down the ends of the scroll to help it lay flat on the table.

Madara did what he could to keep his spluttering at a minimum but whimpering or no whimpering that was a story he definitely had to force out of Hashirama later. For now he kept his eyes on the apparently explosive yet otherwise innocuous seal laid out before them. It looked, in a word, complicated. Seals had never been an area he’d given a lot of thought to studying so much of the fūinjutsu arts were lost on him but even he could tell that the one before him was a masterpiece in the making. Most of the ones mass produced for every shinobi to carry, paper bombs and the like, were usually simple looking arrays with a minimalist look to their designs.

This scroll here looked like an intricate art project by a master with particularly steady hands. Writing so small he could barely read it had been carefully inked all the way around the double circle and the inside was a riot of symbols, lines, and nonsense that Madara suddenly wished he understood the purpose of.

“So, first question, what exactly is kinetic energy? Kin means family. Is it like some sort of spiritual connection between your chakra and the chakra of other people you’re related to?” He was sort of proud of himself for his smart idea until he looked up to find Tobirama blinking at him with a completely broadsided expression. Obviously that was not the correct answer.

“While I admire your attempt, no. That’s nowhere close. Here, let me grab a piece of paper so I can draw a diagram for you. People always understand me better with diagrams.”

His husband turned to rummage through the endless notebooks littering his countertop, presumably to find one with room left for more writing. Instead of letting himself get bored waiting Madara bent down to get a closer look at the seal. Even if he didn’t understand a lick of what he was looking at it was still fascinating and strangely beautiful. He could certainly see why someone might choose to study fūinjutsu once they had seen a properly complicated one like this.

If only he had the time to take up such studies.

Curious, eager to impress the man he had come here to be impressed by, Madara lifted one hand to trace the letters around the edges of the parchment. If he could decipher some of them and maybe determine their purpose without being told then maybe he could do a little showing off of his own. Just because he wasn’t trained at this didn’t mean he had no brains between his ears.

“Alright,” Tobirama said as he spun around, notebook in hand. “Now, make sure you don’t touch it because this seal is built to be extremely sensitive so it can be used without actively infusing your cha- MADARA, NO!”

“Shit, I didn’t know!”

“_Get back_!”

Before he could do more than take in the fact that the seal had begun to smoke under his fingertips Madara found himself thrown backwards and down, his body rolling until he slammed against the door they had come in through. He managed to right himself in time to see Tobirama’s hands slam together, chakra rippling through the air as a barrier flew up between them, and then the lab exploded.

Madara's last glimpse of Tobirama was of his pale face wide-eyed and frantic, his hair turned golden as it was framed with the light of the seal exploding, and in the moments before the concussive blast ripped through the shield protecting him Madara could only think that it was just his luck to screw things up when they had just started going so well.


	12. Chapter 12

Trudging up and down a sterile hospital corridor was not exactly what Madara had planned on doing with his day off but at the moment there was nowhere else he could possibly conceive of being. Maybe someone else could have forced themselves to go back to work when their husband lay unconscious in a hospital bed but not him. How was he supposed to concentrate knowing that this was his fault? How was he meant to get any of the clamoring thoughts in his head at all straight until he knew whether or not Tobirama would really be okay?

Of course, the doctors had assured him several times that everything would be just fine. They had even told him that with Hashirama’s mokuton healing there would be no scarring left over. Apparently Tobirama’s extensive safety procedures included automatic barriers that were meant to shield him in times of an emergency, which would be why he had chosen to use his last moments before chaos erupted to protect Madara rather than himself. And that was all well and good to know intellectually but it had been nearly eight hours since Madara woke up to find himself in the still unfinished Konoha hospital and been denied access to the husband still being tended to in the critical unit.

Eight hours. Not including however much time he himself had spent unconscious. With all the advancement in medical jutsu he would have thought that a few burns could be fixed in that much time. But then medicine was another area he had less than no knowledge of and it seemed Tobirama, even when unconscious, was doomed to be the one to reveal all of Madara's inadequacies.

He had no idea what hour it was. Something ridiculously early judging by the moonlight filling the rooms he had peeked in to and the extra-long shadows that reached out to grasp at his ankles each time he turned to make another circuit along the hall. If only they would let him see Tobirama then he could rest. Finally the two of them start to build a relationship involving something other than mindless hatred and of course he has to go and blow the other man up. It would not surprise him in the slightest if this little stunt threw them right back to where they had been before but at least this time he would understand why Tobirama despised him.

There wasn’t much room in his own heart for any of the people who had caused him serious injury over the years.

Several eternities and a hundred forevers had already passed by the time Hashirama stumbled through the surgery wing doors and greeted him with a tired wave. Madara was at his friend’s side in an instant, hovering nervously while he slid down in to the closest thing that could be considered a chair and practically melted in to the tacky upholstery. He waited expectantly but Hashirama only closed his eyes with the look of someone preparing to sleep and the thought of going even longer without answers made something inside him snap.

“Well!? No one’s come by in ages! I don’t know what’s going on! Is he-?” He bit his tongue, unable to make himself finish that sentence. There were half a dozen horrible outcomes he wanted to question and he had the heart to bring up none of them.

“Fine, he’s fine.” Hashirama dropped his head back against the wall. “He was out of any major peril hours ago. The last while it’s just been me working to make sure there’s no scarring while the others fed me chakra. Skin is really delicate, you know?” All the air in his lungs left him with a great whoosh and he seemed to collapse in to himself even more. He looked exhausted.

Relief swept through Madara's body like a tsunami but he held himself together long enough to ask, “So he’s…he’s okay? I didn’t do anything…irreparable?”

“No of course not.” Finally Hashirama cracked his eyes back open long enough to take a proper look at him, squinting in the dark hallway. “Hey, don’t look so worried. If I had known you were this hung up about it I would have sent someone out to tell you he was fine hours ago! Madara, I’m serious, I’ve seen Tobirama walk away from worse than this under his own power. If he hadn’t hit his head in the blast then he probably would have walked to the hospital by himself.”

“That does not make me feel better! I still caused this!”

“Madara, it’s okay. He’s okay. No lasting damage. His body is pretty tired from the healing so he’s still not going to wake up until at least noon but then he’s going to get a checkup, we’ll see that everything is as it should be, and he’ll go home.”

“Do you think he’ll be mad?” Madara hated how small his voice sounded.

Genuinely startled, Hashirama made the effort to actually push away from the wall and haul himself back on top his feet so that he could put both hands on to Madara's shoulders with a tired grip. “No, he will not be mad. Well, okay, he won’t be mad that you hurt him. Not if it was an accident. If anything he might be mad that you ruined his lab but I find that if you offer to help him rebuild it then he forgives a lot quicker.”

“Easy for you to say, I can’t just create walls and benches out of my hands. And what of that cousin of yours? I blew up her basement; surely she’s going to be out for my blood!”

“Ah, Touka doesn’t care much for property damage. She causes enough of that herself. What _she’ll_ be worried about is the damage to Tobi so – hm. Yeah. She’s definitely going to be mad at you. Just don’t let her catch you in a room alone until she’s calmed down, okay?” Horrifyingly, even the woman’s own kin looked mildly worried at the thought.

Madara groaned. Running both hands through his hair – then swearing when they became tangled and he had to wrench one of them back out by force – and turned his head to gaze longingly at the doors Hashirama had just come through. All he wanted was to see his husband. Shouldn’t that be his right as a spouse? Maybe he should have someone look in to what protocols had been put in place around this sort of stuff; it had been hard to pay attention to every single detail of setting up a village, lots of things had slipped his notice or been passed over entirely.

“Where is he?”

“He’s been taken to recovery. You can see him, if you like. I know visiting hours don’t open until the morning but I’m sure they’ll make an exception.” Hashirama shrugged. “If not I’ll help you sneak in through the window like I do sometimes.”

“Show me where,” Madara demanded shortly.

He almost felt bad for his demands as he watched Hashirama totter along on obviously tired feet but he consoled himself with the knowledge that they could both rest as soon as he had seen Tobirama with his own eyes. Together they made their way through the twisting hallways he would never have been able to navigate on his own even with the stupid dotted lines on the floor until finally Hashirama nodded to some lady behind a random desk and waved him towards a door that looked identical to all the other doors they had passed.

It was the inside that made this room different because this room contained one Uchiha Tobirama laid out in the moonlight looking much more peaceful than Madara had ever seen him. Or maybe that was just how he always looked when he was sleeping. Madara certainly wouldn’t know any better.

“Well, there he is. He’s just gonna be lying here until tomorrow without doing much more than breathe so if you need me I am going to collapse in to this chair. But if his vitals do anything funny wake me up. And slap me if I panic.” With no further warning Hashirama slumped back down in to one of the visitor chairs tucked up against the wall and fell asleep almost immediately, head lolling down until it was all but pillowed against his own breast. Madara frowned but he supposed after seeing his brother injured as many times as he had given the impression of it was sort of old news to stay awake at his bedside. Not to mention the several hours he’d just spent staring at nothing else _but_ his brother. Exhaustion did strange things to people.

He turned his attention back to the man in the bed, inching closer as quietly as he could. No matter what Hashirama had said about Tobirama sleeping till noon there was no way he was taking any chances with accidentally waking the patient up. When he was close enough to reach out and touch Madara instead let his eyes trace the shapes of his husband’s face, the patterns of moonlight on his already pale skin, and inspected every inch he could see for the slightest trace of lingering injury. It was a relief to see that Hashirama had been right in this respect. Not so much as a hint remained of the burns Tobirama had suffered in the accident, smooth skin as far as the eye could see – where it wasn’t covered by a medical gown, at least.

Checking to make sure that Hashirama was actually asleep and not just spying on him or something, Madara leaned over Tobirama’s form to brush the hair away from his eyes, wondering how it was so clean and who had given him a bath. A flash of something irritated and dark rolled through his belly at the thought that someone might have seen the man exposed. Tobirama was _his_ husband whether they had that sort of relationship or not. It wasn’t for anyone else to see him like that.

Feeling possessive of a man he had only ever kissed at the altar might have been a little strange but Madara figured it was only his right to be protective of what essentially belonged to him.

Seeing the proof of Tobirama’s recovery soothed the heavy ball in his chest that had driven him to pace restlessly for the past several hours and without that frantic worry to keep him going Madara found that he too was suddenly very tired. The minor concussion he had suffered in the blast had already been healed but it was still the wee hours of the morning and his own brief stint of unconsciousness hardly counted for proper sleep. It was with heavy steps that he fumbled his way back to the other side of the room and slumped down in the chair next to Hashirama, telling himself that he would only close his eyes for a little while until he had the gumption to get up again and head for home.

The next time he opened his eyes, however, the room was brilliant with sunlight and the first thing he saw was Hashirama sitting in the open windowsill with takeout in one hand and his head tilted back in laughter. In the moments before his friend spotted him Madara had just enough time to flick his eyes over and take in Tobirama, upright in his bed and looking no worse for the wear as he ate his own takeout.

“Oh! Madara, you’re awake!” Hashirama waved at him and then jabbed his chopsticks towards a paper bag sitting on the nightstand. “I brought some for you too; it might even still be warm.”

Grunting out a short thanks, Madara straightened in his chair and very delicately rolled his neck. However long he’d slept for had been incredibly restful but left a terrible crick in his spine. Once that was straightened he dared to glance up again to meet Tobirama’s cautious gaze.

“Feeling alright?” he asked. At his words tension that he hadn’t even known was there seemed to flow out of the man and Tobirama offered the barest twitch of a smile.

“Yes. I was glad to hear that you weren’t injured as well. I find that I am not in the mood to fight off hordes of Uchiha angry that I blew up their first heir.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with humor that slipped away in to worry when Hashirama nearly overbalanced and fell out the window. The distraction gave Madara just enough time to properly gather himself and stand up with relief flooding through him. His husband was not angry.

“The incident was my fault,” he grumbled. “No one would have been mad at you. Or if they were I would have haunted them from the grave and told them they were being stupid.”

He stepped over to peek inside the paper bag and brightened to find a small container of roasted sweet potato, one of his favorite street foods. While Hashirama righted himself and mumbled about a strong breeze Madara delved inside the bag to snatch up his unexpected treat.

The two brothers picked up their conversation as Madara nibbled away at his brunch and observed Tobirama a little more closely. His movements were easy and his expressions calm, no pinching in the face to betray secret pain, yet he remained here in a hospital bed rather than at home. The next time Hashirama stopped for breath he interjected himself quietly to question why.

“Oh, mostly just to let you sleep.” Tobirama shrugged.

“Me?”

“If I signed myself out of the hospital then we would have to wake you up so they could clean out the room. Hashirama tells me there’s plenty of empty beds around so it wouldn’t hurt anything if we waited for you to wake up before checking out.”

His casual tone almost sounded like he thought he was in a hotel but Madara passed that over and tried not to think about how many times Tobirama had been wounded before, although he did make a mental note to try and ensure that happened less often from here on out. Neither of them had found the time to leave the village on many missions since moving in but he would definitely be paying close attention to the teams Tobirama left with now. He couldn’t leave his husband in untrustworthy hands, after all.

“So…does that mean we’re going home now?” he asked through a mouthful of sweet potato. Tobirama wrinkled his nose at the lack of manners but nodded.

“If you don’t mind eating on the go.”

Shaking his head, Madara snapped his takeout container shut and made sure to swallow before speaking again. “No, that’s fine. I can finish at home. How…do we check out of a hospital? I’ve never been in a proper hospital before, the medics in our clan usually just go where they’re needed.”

“Paperwork,” Tobirama sighed.

As he had predicted, it took several signatures from both the patient and Hashirama, as his doctor on file, to set them free from the chemical scented hallways. Madara took a deep breath of fresh air as soon as they stepped outside and let it back out with a sigh of gratitude. Some buildings like the administration tower he didn’t mind spending lots of time in but places like the hospital, places he hadn’t had a chance to inspect top to bottom for weaknesses or possible trap locations, he would never be able to feel completely comfortable in them for longer than a few minutes at a time.

“You’re sure that you’re okay to be up and walking around so soon?” he asked after they had already made it on to the main street. It should have occurred to him earlier but the thrill of escape had distracted him. Tobirama scoffed at the question and shrugged it off like there was nothing to be concerned about.

“I’m perfectly fine, no need to fret.”

“Well, you should probably take it easy today,” Hashirama chipped in. “I’d come over and make sure you stay put but Mito’s cousin is supposed to be arriving this morning and I should go get ready to meet her at the gates. Unless she’s already here. I’m sure they would both understand but Mito does appreciate it when I try to engage with her family.”

“Go,” Tobirama urged him and with a few more reminders not to get in to any strenuous activity the man went.

Madara stared after him with a pensive feeling growing in his chest. He was sure Hashirama hadn’t meant his words to be profound in any way and yet they struck a chord inside of him that left him thoughtful with several idiots running around in his head. To an Uchiha family was everything. How highly did the Senju value their familiar bonds, he wondered.

One thing was for certain. If he wanted to be in Tobirama good graces then eventually he would need to confront and make peace with their cousin Touka. She was a hard woman and the interactions they had were never very pleasant for him but there had been several hints from many sources that Tobirama was particularly close to her and that made her a very important figure in his life – which meant that she would be an important figure in Madara's life by proxy, even if not always a pleasant one. If he couldn’t like her then he should at least attempt to come to some sort of understanding with her. Perhaps he should ask her to stay back the next time all the security teams met for their weekly debriefing.

And in turn he wondered if there were some way he could bring Izuna in to Tobirama’s life in a more positive role. So far he was fairly sure the most Izuna knew of Tobirama were his own irritated rants whenever they met up at one of their houses; he was definitely going to have to do a little damage control on that front before any attempts for anything further could be made. He should also probably ask a few subtle questions to figure out what Tobirama’s opinion of Izuna was. Did they ever interact at work outside of large scale meetings?

With so many questions bouncing around in his head after Hashirama’s unintended nugget of wisdom Madara didn’t notice the streets passing underneath them until suddenly they were standing in front of their own front door and he realized that neither of them had said a word for the entire journey.

“Oh sweet sage I swear I wasn’t ignoring you,” he blurted. His worries were soothed when Tobirama only chuckled.

“I know. You were quite obviously lost inside your own head and, whatever it was, you seemed to be thinking about it pretty hard. I chose not to disturb you.” A quick press of one hand and a flick of the wrist in just the right spot disabled the wards around their home so Tobirama could pop the door open and the lead the way inside.

“Just…some personal things I need pay a little more attention to, that’s all. Not important right now. Did you have anything you were planning to do with your afternoon?” Madara paused to kick off his sandals and frowned. The house was shamefully barren of Tobirama’s possessions beyond the necessities. “Is there anything I can grab for you? Something from the office or the market?”

Tobirama flashed him a surprised but grateful smile before shaking his head. “I do have some of my books here in what I think was meant to be used as an office. I’m not sure you use it for that but I…well. I’ve been using my work station in the tower mostly. But in answer to your question I had planned to just read.”

“You–” Madara sighed and turned to stomp his way in to the kitchen, running water for a pot of tea, aggressively finishing off the last of his sweet potato treats while he waited.

When he returned to the living room Tobirama had already fetched himself a book and was lowering himself down on the far end of the couch where the sunlight would hit the pages best. Trying not to look as awkward as he felt, Madara cleared his throat.

“I don’t use it very much myself so if you would like to work from home a little more you are welcome to make that space more of your own.” He dared to peek only after he had said his piece. Tobirama was looking back at him with warmth in his pretty red eyes, book lowered to rest in his lap.

“That sounds nice,” he murmured.

Unable to think of anything else to say, embarrassed that Tobirama’s acceptance had pleased him so much, Madara turned away again and went to check on the water that he already knew would be nowhere near ready yet.

While the water slowly heated up he puttered around the kitchen and slipped up in to their bedroom to rummage through his drawers for the one novel he had read a hundred times and would probably read a hundred more. Nothing else relaxed him quite like tucking himself in to somewhere comfortable and revisiting the familiar world of his favorite story. He busied himself with unfolding some of the pages he’d creased over the years to mark his place and when the tea was finally steeped just right he prepared a tray and brought it out with his novel tucked under one arm.

It was a pleasant way to pass the afternoon, sitting quietly on opposite ends of the couch with their minds both a million miles away following the adventures of bold young heroes determined to right wrongs. Or at least that’s what his book was about. He assumed Tobirama’s was probably something a little more mature than an adolescent’s hero tale.

Time passed without his notice again but this time when Madara came back to himself to realize they had whiled away the entire afternoon in silence it was less of a guilty realization and more of a peaceful one, content in the knowledge that they were capable of spending time in each other’s presence with no sparks of bad blood. He was unsurprised to hear Tobirama’s stomach rumbling and even dared a bit of gentle teasing when he stood to fix them both a quick meal.

And then it was evening and Madara was faced with a momentous occasion. For the first time since they were married when he announced his intentions to head on up to bed Tobirama looked over and, with deliberately spoken words, admitted that he was tired as well.

“I think I would like to sleep too,” he said and Madara was fairly sure his stomach did a backflip without his permission.

“You should probably come to bed then.” It took everything in his to keep his voice steady but it was worth it to see Tobirama blink once and then smile, soft and honest.

“Perhaps I should, yes.”

Juggling their nightly routines wasn’t anywhere near as difficult as Madara anticipated it would be. While he brushed his teeth and washed his face Tobirama changed in to comfortable sleepwear in the bedroom. Then they traded places. By the time Tobirama stepped out of their master bathroom Madara was already under the covers and curled in to his habitual ball with one eye cracked open to watch the shadow tiptoeing around to the other side of their bed.

It was strange being awake to feel the futon shift and the covers pull occasionally until Tobirama had settled himself. Neither of them made any move to sleep in anything but their usual spots, though it did occur to Madara that he would need to ask someday if Tobirama truly found it comfortable to sleep so close to the edge. But not right now. After considering the idea for a moment Madara decided that now simply wasn’t the time to rock the boat any farther or risk kicking off a deep conversation between the two of them. Right now Tobirama was tired and only just healed and the best thing for both of them was just to fall asleep together in peace.

Closing his eyes, doing his best not to concentrate too hard on the fact that this was surely a big turning point in their relationship, Madara firmly emptied his mind of anything that wasn’t a hope for pleasant dreams.


	13. Chapter 13

As annoying as it was to be denied access to one of his favorite places, Tobirama was touched enough by Madara's worry to acquiesce the man’s request that he not return to his lab until Mito had finished laying new protective seals to replace the ones that had been activated in the recent explosion. He wasn’t sure what the big deal really was but he could admit that his perspective may have been a little skewed by the dozens of lab accidents he had survived over the years. This one hadn’t even ruined any of the paperwork or equipment, all of which had been saved by the same seals that automatically snapped in to place around him to downgrade the damage from fatal to merely hospitalizing; really he considered the incident a big win in comparison to others.

It was endearing, however, watching the way Madara's entire face pinched at the mere mention of his return to the lab and so Tobirama put it off until Mito declared the area safely layered with Uzumaki secret techniques. Still Madara was not satisfied until he could stump around the room like a suspicious dog shoving his nose in to every corner with narrowed eyes. Tobirama wasn’t sure what the man thought he was looking for since he himself had admitted to not understanding even the basics of fūinjutsu but it was cute so he held his silence and let it happen.

For the couple of days it took Mito to do her work Tobirama split his off hours between training with Kagami and doing his research from the comfort of home. The corner of their living room couch right underneath the window was fast becoming his new favorite reading spot; it certainly beat sitting hunched over the work stations in his lab or propped up in the uncomfortable wooden chair in his office at the tower. And spending time in the living room often came with the new perk of Madara's tentative presence lurking nearby, slowly drifting closer over the course of whatever time they spent together, and small patches of conversation in which the man tried very hard to keep his attempts to deepen their bond very casual and breezy.

He didn’t succeed very well but the effort was there so Tobirama mentally gave him a pass.

It helped that the more time they spent getting to know each other the more Tobirama found Madara to be quite interesting. Of the few Uchiha he had quietly prompted for stories on their heir most of them agreed that he was a brave and powerful man but it seemed that most of them weren’t privy to the sides of Madara that Tobirama and those closer to him were. None of their stories included his caring nature, evidenced by the way he pointedly observed how Tobirama took his tea so that the next time he could deliver a perfectly made cup all ready to go, or several other of the good qualities he never seemed to demonstrate in public.

Amusingly, Tobirama realized after a while that Madara was the Hashirama of his own clan in more ways than just their equal rank. Where Hashirama was the only Senju to be quite so open with his emotions, Madara was the only Uchiha to bluster and hide his away from the public eye. It was no wonder the two of them made such good friends. Together they made perfect compliments to each other.

There was, however, only so long Tobirama could stand having someone fluster around trying to force all kinds of restrictive and frankly over-zealous safety precautions on him. It was wonderful that they had finally managed to build some sort of bond between them but Tobirama was quite used to being allowed to go where he wanted when he wanted. When he saw an opportunity for some much needed alone time while Madara was distracted he took it without hesitation, slipping away to the clan library to peruse for new study material.

When he returned home he was feeling incredibly relaxed and much less caged in, as he’d begun to feel whenever Madara wanted to accompany him absolutely everywhere to be sure he wasn’t straining himself. It was sweet but it was also a little stifling and Tobirama had gotten more than his fair share of that from Hashirama over the years. When he opened their front door he did not expect to step right in to the middle of what appeared to be an argument.

“I don’t know, okay!” That was Madara's voice, he would know that angry yowl anywhere.

“Since when do you even care?” The second voice was a little harder to place, although it sounded tantalizingly familiar.

“He’s my husband! I’m supposed to care!”

“But why? It’s not like the two of you are in _loooove_ or anything. A couple of months ago you couldn’t stand the guy and now you’re worried about where he’s disappeared to for an hour?”

Tobirama lifted one eyebrow and considered turning around to leave again. If Madara was getting this upset that he’d left the house for a bit of personal time then they definitely needed to have a little talk about boundaries but clearly this was not a good time. He almost did just that until he heard the thump of a fist hitting something wooden, probably the table since their voices were coming from the kitchen.

“Fine, yes! I judged him a little quickly! I hated him! But I was wrong and now I don’t hate him but I _blew him up_ only a few days ago so yes! I’m a little high strung and worried for his safety! Sue me! But later because right now I just want to know where he went so I can’t stop seeing this fucking image every time I close my eyes!”

“What image?” Whoever that was in their kitchen Tobirama was already not very fond of them. Their voice held absolutely no sympathy after such a revealing outburst from Madara.

“I–” Madara's voice cracked, a terrible broken sound from a man like him. “Just before the blast knocked me out, just as that stupid seal blew and he tossed me in a corner. I keep seeing that moment every time I close my eyes. And I just keep thinking…I don’t know…that’s my husband. I didn’t get to choose him but he’s still my husband and I almost killed him without ever really giving him a proper chance. That would have been my last memory of him, trying to protect me when he really should have been protecting himself.” The guilt in Madara's voice was so thick it was a wonder he had managed not to let it color every conversation they’d had since that day.

Out of sight in the genkan, Tobirama pinched his lips together and closed his eyes. He’d been so concentrated on his own adolescent annoyance at having someone try to keep tabs on him that he hadn’t ever stopped to question why Madara was so insistent.

“Ugh. Is this why you’ve been up my ass every time I make a comment about him?”

“Your comments are rude,” Madara sniffed.

“A few weeks ago you agreed with those comments.” The strange voice sighed. “Whatever. What do you want me to do?”

“Help me find him. I know he’s getting annoyed that I always want to know where he is so I won’t disturb him, I just want to know that he’s not blowing up again or the earth hasn’t cracked open to swallow him or something.” The poor man sounded in such a state he seemed to have forgotten his own skills as a sensor could easily be used to locate anyone at least within the village boundaries.

Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, Tobirama slipped out of his sandals and padded towards their voices with what he hoped was his usual blank expression. Letting them know that he had heard most of that obviously private conversation would only embarrass everyone and make things doubly awkward than they were already going to be when he sat his husband down to talk about this later. With that in mind he made sure to set down the books he’d brought home with a subtle thump only just loud enough to cut off the stranger’s voice when he began talking again.

Both of them stared at him with wide eyes when he casually entered the kitchen, expression calm and eyes fixated on the fridge like a man on a mission. Tobirama murmured a short greeting as he poured himself a quick drink and used that to hide the twitching of his lips as he tried not to smile. It looked like Madara's eyes were about to fall right out of his head.

He also used the few moments of silence in which he drank his juice to check out their visitor from the corner of one eye. As soon as he got one good look he felt ridiculous for not guessing that it would be Izuna. Despite being married to the man’s older brother he hadn’t had many interactions with Izuna yet, certainly not enough to build a proper opinion of him, but what he had seen so far had not left a very positive impression. Izuna struck him as a bratty, selfish person with a tendency to ignore any evidence that did not support the conclusion he wanted others to come to.

Setting his cup down on the countertop with a muted thump, Tobirama cleared his throat.

“If I interrupted something private I could just go back to the library.” The least he could do after letting Madara worry without bothering to address the man’s feelings was to let him know where he had been.

“No it wasn’t- ah, you’re fine. The library? That’s nice. Very…safe.” Madara shifted awkwardly, glaring quickly at his brother when Izuna dropped his face in to both hands. Tobirama pretended not to notice the weird phrasing and simply nodded his head.

“Good. Will he be staying for lunch?”

A precarious offer if he’d ever made one. Playing nice with his spouse’s family was an expected part of marriage but in the back of his mind he did wonder if he would be able to get away with being nice to Susumu and Kagami instead of Izuna; he wasn’t sure the two of them were going to mesh very well.

The evil glint in Izuna’s eyes when he announced that he would indeed be staying for lunch certainly did nothing to change that opinion.

Since allowing himself to get visibly upset with someone he wasn’t close to right there would be the height of uncouth – something Izuna never learned, judging by the sour look on his face – Tobirama managed to control his reaction and limit himself to nothing more than raising his eyebrows and keeping his mouth shut. His reward was in the way Izuna’s expression pinched even further. Clearly he’d been hoping for some sort of push back so they could start a fight but Tobirama simply wasn’t looking to have his mood ruined.

Lunch wasn’t anything fancy. He’d been thinking of actually cooking but that was a bit more effort than he was willing to put in with such undesirable company so that got thrown out the window rather quickly. He made simple sandwiches instead and gave thanks to the samurai from the western clans who introduced him to the concept. Sandwiches were quick and easy and, best of all, clearly Izuna had never had one. Evidently the concept of meat and cheese between bread was not something that had ever occurred to him before and such a simple thing did well to confuse his obviously simple mind.

Eventually Madara got tired of the quiet animosity hanging quietly over their heads, setting the remains of his own sandwich down to rub soothingly at his temples.

“I would very much appreciate it if the two of you would at least pretend you’re making an effort, here.”

“An effort to what?” Izuna scoffed. “I already know everything I need to know about this guy. He’s a dick, he’s not good to you, he’s not good _for_ you, and we’ve already seen his true colors so I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling with this sudden nice guy act lately.”

“I would be very interested to hear your reasons for why I might be, as you say, not good for him. Is that opinion based on compatibility or was that merely a personal preference?” Tobirama leaned forward to support his chin on one hand as though this turn in the conversation fascinated him. He took a petty sort of shameless joy from the frustration in Izuna’s eyes.

“Neither of you really gets to decide what’s good for me,” Madara pointed out.

Undeterred, Izuna leaned over the table as well to mirror Tobirama’s position. “After living with you all my life I think I would know better than someone who just drops in out of nowhere and treats you like unwanted dirt on the bottom of his shoe for several months. You don’t fool me, _Senju_.

“Technically I’m an Uchiha now.”

“Oh? My mistake. I probably forgot because I’ve never seen you come within ten feet of anything that bears the uchiwa.” Izuna lifted one eyebrow challengingly. “_Senju_.”

Something hot in Tobirama’s belly burned with shame, straightening him in his chair again. He hadn’t expected the little rat to hit home with such unforgiving accuracy. The soft blue of his shirt and the blank collar with no clan symbol almost felt heavier suddenly with the weight of what wasn’t there and it was all too obvious that Izuna knew he’d scored a point in whatever inane game he was playing.

“Whatever the sins my husband and I have committed against each other in the past,” Tobirama spit out between his teeth, “that is for us to resolve between ourselves in private and does not require your input. Mistakes were made and I am willing to admit that. I am also capable of moving on and _growing up_. You should try it some time.” It wasn’t quite the same as getting him back with a blow as devastating as the one Izuna had hit him with but it did the job. As he suspected, Izuna was not the sort of person who enjoyed being told to grow up.

“I wish I could get rid of you,” the brat snarled.

“How unfortunate for you that I have every intention of sticking around.”

“Yeah because you have to!” Izuna rolled his eyes while Tobirama narrowed his own.

Resisting the urge to cross his arms like a petulant child, he said, “No. Not just because I have to. I’m aware that our traditions differ on this but where I come from we work hard to build and maintain our relationships, we don’t give up just because of a rough beginning.”

“Oh don’t act all high and mighty like your way is somehow better than marrying for love!”

“I don’t see you on the cusp of any nuptials,” Tobirama pointed out. “At least I have a marriage to try and fix.”

Tossing his chair back as he leapt to his feet, Izuna blurted without thinking, “At least when I get married it won’t be empty like yours!”

“Out!” Madara’s voice startled them both. When they both looked over he was glaring at his brother with his hands clenched around the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip. “Get out. Go home. Or anywhere. I don’t care where you go as long as it’s away from me.”

“You’re taking his side!?”

“I am taking _my_ side. How dare you disparage the same situation you’ve comforted me over numerous times? How dare you throw the nature of our marriage back in our faces when you know very well that we had no say in this? Get out of my house, Izuna, before I say something to you that I will regret.”

“But–! I didn’t mean anything against you!”

Slamming a hand down on the tabletop, Madara stood up to match his sibling, sending his own chair clattering backwards. “You don’t get to insult him for the way we were married and think the same won’t apply to me! Or have you forgotten that marriage takes two people? It’s a partnership! It’s a bond! Whether we wanted it or not we are bonded and if you can think so lowly of _him_ for having this situation arranged then clearly you must think as lowly of me. Leave. We’ll talk about this when I don’t have the urge to throw you out through the closest wall.”

Izuna did leave but not without throwing Tobirama a venomous look as if to say that he was to blame for everything that just transpired. A childish man to be sure. Tobirama waited until the stomping footsteps of their guest had reached the front door and thundered their way down the front porch before speaking.

Or at least he tried to speak; Madara cut him off even as he opened his mouth.

“No, I’m angry at you too.”

“I did not start that fight,” he pointed out.

“Well you didn’t need to make it worse! You’re supposed to be the one that has self-control – so control yourself! I know he’s a brat and I know he pushes buttons but you didn’t need to push back!” Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, Madara sighed. “I’m not truly angry at you. He’s the one that went too far so I’m mad at him. But I am still pretty annoyed with you too and I just need…air.”

He left the room without even bothering to right his chair and stormed out the front door of their house. Tobirama was left sitting at their kitchen table alone wondering what the hell else he was supposed to have done in that situation. Was he supposed to just sit there and allow himself to be insulted? From his perspective that made no sense, although if he had learned anything from getting to know his husband it was that their perspectives often differed wildly in unexpected ways.

Clearly the man needed space so the thought of chasing after him was discarded immediately. What Tobirama needed was someone who might help him see things from a point of view he couldn’t imagine for himself. If there was anyone who understood Madara – that Tobirama felt comfortable going to for advice, at least – it would be Hashirama. Were he a little more comfortable with the man’s old teacher he might have gone to speak with Susumu instead, he had a feeling she would have given him better and much more applicable advice, but the idea of asking for something as intimate as a solemn heart to heart with a woman who was still little better than a mere acquaintance made him cringe. Hashirama would have to do. It had a better chance of success than sitting alone and trying to figure out for himself what he should do.

Were it not for the personal connection between the other two men he would have actually preferred to ask Touka’s help rather than Hashirama’s, being closer to her and all, and he was already preparing to roll his eyes at whatever over-emotional bull crap his brother tried to feed him even as he stepped out of the house.

Halfway there he ran in to one of the men he shared an office with, pausing in his journey to let them ask him a few questions now so he wouldn’t have to answer them later when he was busy with paperwork. It took longer than he would have liked and he was forced to excuse himself rather abruptly in order to shake them off but eventually he managed to continue on through the Senju district. Several of the children he used to train accosted him on his way as well, although their company was much more appreciated than his coworker’s. By the time he was letting himself in to Hashirama’s house he was still in a rather subdued mood but with much less frantic energy.

The edge of panic he had only just gotten rid of returned immediately when he walked in to the living room to find Madara hunched down in a massive armchair with an expression as startled as his own.

“Ah. I apologize. Perhaps I should have checked to make sure where you were before I came.” Tobirama furrowed his brows, unsure if he felt a little guilty or a little irritated. He should have guessed the man might come here as well, even if for nothing more than a place to calm down, but Hashirama was _his_ brother. When he turned to leave Hashirama shot up out of his own seat and waved for his to stop.

“No, stay. Madara told me what happened and I was just about to make tea, would you like some?” He half-turned towards the kitchen with a questioning look.

“I believe my husband wished for a little space,” Tobirama said stiffly. “I should go.”

“Just sit down for five minutes. I only wanted to say something I think both of you need to hear.” Hashirama waved him towards the other chair and after a moment of hesitation he very carefully lowered himself in to it, legs coiled to bolt, feeling rather like a naughty child about to be lectured for his bad behavior.

Not actually that far off the mark, he thought wryly.

A peek from the corner of his eye told him Madara's temper hadn’t improved too much since he left the house. He wasn’t throwing any heated looks in anyone’s direction, though, so that could be counted as a win. Hashirama cleared his throat to catch their attention and waited until they were both looking at him before speaking in a hesitant voice, clearly trying to be diplomatic and not set either of them off again.

“Getting used to having someone in your life is difficult, especially so when you know nothing about the person before you’re thrown together. When Mito and I were married it took quite a while for us to work out a compromise between certain habits we both have. Even the people that you think you know so well can be startlingly different when you see what they’re like to live with.” His fingers twisted the band of gold on his left hand as he spoke, lips slowly turning up in a soft smile. “Arguments are going to happen but if you talk about what made you angry then I promise it helps to prevent the same fights from happening over and over.”

“I feel like you have this speech a little too prepared,” Tobirama grumbled. Hashirama sniffed at him.

“You know I love both of you but you’re not the most agreeable men I’ve ever met. My point is that just because you get along better now that doesn’t mean there aren’t still going to be a few rough edges to smooth over. Learning about each other isn’t the same as learning how you fit together.”

“Flower child,” Madara piped up accusingly.

Turning his head but lowering his eyes, Tobirama sighed very gently. “No, he’s right. Things have been going well and in the back of my mind I think I was expecting that to fix everything.”

“Precisely. Don’t expect too much of yourselves!” Clasping his hands together with a brilliant smile, Hashirama beamed side to side, trying to include both of them in the joy that at least one of them had recognized he had a point for once. An unusual occurrence and definitely something he had a right to celebrate.

He withered almost immediately afterward when both of the married couple sent him dark looks, fidgeting on the spot until his energy spilled over and he leapt up with disjointed mumblings about making that tea like he’d meant to.

In his wake Tobirama kept his gaze stubbornly forward only because he could see Madara doing the same and, although he wasn’t truly upset anymore, there was still no reason to show weakness. His eyes slid closed and he sighed again very quietly. Showing weakness to one’s spouse wasn’t supposed to be a bad thing. They were meant to be one of the few people you felt most comfortable around, the person you could be the most yourself with. If he wanted that sort of relationship in any way with Madara then he needed to learn how to bring his own walls down as well.

Definitely not the easiest thing he had ever asked of himself.

“Can we at least agree that Hashirama being right about something never happened?” Madara finally spoke up, his words bringing a smile to Tobirama’s face.

“Now that’s a cause we can definitely unite behind.”

“Good. I don’t know what the world would come to if he actually turned out to be the more intelligent one in something.” Both of them scoffed in unison.

“Truly a disturbing thing to imagine.”

Daring to finally look over properly, Tobirama felt the pressure in his chest easing. Until it did he hadn’t even realized he could hardly breathe for worry that with one argument he might have set back all the progress they’d made so far.

Madara looked over and met his eyes, hesitant and careful, still pinched around the mouth but not nearly as taut between his shoulders. For a minute the two of them sat still and did nothing but study each other. Tobirama wondered for the first time what Madara saw when the man looked at him, something he’d never bothered to wonder when it came to anyone else simply because he didn’t care. Either a person liked him or they didn’t and it mattered little to him.

But Madara was his husband and that made it his duty to help the man see his good points, of which many people had joked that there were few. It appeared that he had his work cut out for him but he’d never been the sort to shrink from a challenge.

“When I’m angry I need time to cool off,” Madara offered eventually. “It would be best if you don’t ever try forcing me to talk things through if I’m still at screaming levels.”

“I tend to simmer and get worse as the days go by if the problem isn’t addressed,” Tobirama admitted.

“Some things to keep in mind, I guess. Hashirama is _not correct_ but maybe we do need to…try talking a little more. And not expect everything to just fall in to place nicely.”

Tobirama nodded and murmured in a thoughtful voice, “At least you don’t snore.”

The triumph of making his husband laugh only barely outweighed the embarrassment of Hashirama barreling back in to the room to congratulate them on getting past their first real fight as a married couple, just enough that he was able to leave the two of them alone with his mood successfully repaired to allow Madara the space he needed. When they were both ready to talk about their issues they would and he would do his best to open up as much as he could.

Izuna, on the other hand, was a problem that would need to be addressed sooner rather than later. Something told him that leaving the second Uchiha heir to simmer would only make things worse when the pot finally blew its lid.


	14. Chapter 14

“I’m not sure why you’re so worried about solving the problem right this second.” Touka examined her fried squid with a little too much interest to be genuine before delicately catching a piece between her teeth and nibbling it away from the stick. Her apparent disinvestment in their conversation did not fool him for a moment.

“They’re brothers, closer maybe than Hashirama and I.”

“Doesn’t take much,” Touka interrupted with a scoff, her words muffle around the mouthful of squid.

Tobirama ignored her. “Izuna means a lot to Madara and having a wedge like this between the brother he loves and the husband he’s contractually stuck with, it’s got him in knots. He’s _moping_. But you didn’t hear me say that because every time I use the word moping he gets prissy and starts yelling about the difference between moping and thoughtful silences.”

Pausing to let an older couple pass in front of them in the busy marketplace, he shared a secret look with his favorite cousin.

“Does he get that squinty look? The really hot one where he starts puffing his chest out?”

“Every time,” Tobirama answered.

Touka laughed as she pulled the last of her squid off its stick, popping the morsel in her mouth and tossing the stick in a public trash bin when they passed one. “Shame he’s so mouthy, really. You got lucky in the looks department but he’s too loud for my tastes.”

“I kind of like him the way he is.” Sensing her eyes drilling in to the side of his head, Tobirama huffed. “Yes, I know. Don’t bother saying it. This is _supposed_ to happen in a marriage but – and I never thought I would have to say this about myself – getting attached like this probably isn’t really the best idea.” Knuckles brushing against his own was Touka’s way of expressing sympathy out here where so many strangers could see them.

“Be careful,” was all she said, simple words that carried a depth of meaning very few would be able to discern.

“No promises,” Tobirama shot back. She rolled her eyes at him but let the subject drop.

When they turned the next corner they were treated to the sight of the afternoon sunlight laying a golden crown around the tower that made the center of their village. After getting caught up in a meeting with the Sanitation Committee about why burying their garbage right next to a residential area wasn’t a great solution such a vision was more than welcome, reminding him of the few reasons he did think this village was a good idea. He had missed his usual lunch hour before of the meeting and so ended up taking a late break with Touka as she came off patrol. Now that they were done eating he would have to go back to the drone of paperwork.

Sometimes he really missed risking his life on missions. At least it was never boring.

He had planned to part ways with Touka after she saw him back to his office but they never made it that far, stopped in the hallway by a large crowd of people and immediately drawn by the same curiosity as everyone else had been: raised voices. Both of the shouting voices were unfortunately quite familiar. It wasn’t the first time that Tajima and Butsuma had argued in public, something that had been growing more and more common since the first time after Tajima caught Butsuma yelling at one of his sons, and the only reason Tobirama hadn’t made any attempts to rein his father in was the fact that it didn’t seem to be affecting how well the rest of their clans worked together.

From what he could understand of their yelling it didn’t appear that Tajima had gotten the message on that. It seemed like the longer they worked together and the more people joined this venture they had pioneered the more paranoid he grew about everything that went on around him. Tobirama wished he could say that Butsuma balanced him out with level-headed responses but unfortunately much the opposite was true.

“He is _my_ son, not your own! It should not be for you to say where he goes and when!” Tajima’s voice sounded livid and his face, when they finally fought their way through the crowd, was red with anger. Not an unfamiliar sight.

“This mission requires a certain skill set and Izuna matches that perfectly. Should I pretend the entirety of the Uchiha clan does not exist when assigning teams for each mission?” Butsuma’s face was hardly faring any better and his body language was just as aggressive, much to Tobirama’s tired irritation.

“You do as much whenever it pleases you from what I can tell!”

“I beg your pardon?” Butsuma’s eyes narrowed. Tajima did not take the warning.

Stepping forward almost threateningly, he made wide gestures to match his accusations. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how often my clan members get sent away and pushed to the side while you keep your own children close and pair them with the _Hyuga_.”

“Are you trying to say something about my administrative choices?”

“I think you understand what I’m trying to say,” Tajima snarled. “You and the head of the Hyuga clan have been getting a little too close for me to ignore it any longer.”

“There is nothing for you to ignore. It isn’t my fault if you choose to jump at shadows and secret plots that don’t exist. I stand by my decision. Your son Izuna was chosen for this mission because he is well equipped for it and Tobirama has been assigned to the land expansion project for the same reasons. That this project happens to work closely with the Hyuga has nothing to do with you!” Unlike his counterpart, Butsuma did not bull his way forward but rather settled his legs in to a firmer stance and stubbornly crossed his arms.

Across the room Tobirama lifted his eyebrows. This was the first he had heard of being assigned to any new projects. Sure he was good with numbers and had a knack for thinking of things in long term views, something that coming up with budgets for future expansions would need, but he was hardly the only person with a head for arithmetic in the whole village. Plenty of other people could take his place crunching these particular numbers.

Clearly Tajima seemed to think so as well, although his issue didn’t seem to be with Tobirama’s placement but more with the other people working on the expansion plans. The red covering his face deepened another shade as he clenched his fists with rage.

“Lies! Do not lie to me! You have the nerve to send my son away on a mission to risk his life while keeping your own safe at home and oh! What a coincidence! Working closely with the _Hyuga_!”

“What exactly do you imagine is happening that has not already been covered in our very public meetings?” Butsuma demanded, clearly tiring of this argument.

“You are undermining me and my clan! Have you forgotten that this village was only made possible by my clan’s equal contribution? You did not build this _empire_ alone and it is not for you to rule by yourself! I refuse to sit idly by while you replace us with an inferior clan just because you think you can control them better!”

“Be careful what you say to me, Uchiha.” Drawing himself up a little taller, Butsuma at least made a good impression of a man insulted.

Tobirama was contemplating the pros and cons of hiding under a rock for the rest of his life when he heard Touka sigh to his left. When he looked over her face was drawn in to an expression that practically dripped with exasperation, body language screaming her desire to call both of the men before them six kinds of idiots. Pretty much her usual reaction to any sort of interaction with either of their two founders.

“Do you think they know how stupid they look?” she murmured under her breath.

“Hmph.” Tobirama leaned closer to murmur back. “Do you think they realize what a poor image they make of themselves every time they do this in public? What a terrible example to follow.” To make such fools of themselves or to insult another prominent clan so brazenly, he wasn’t sure which was stupider but he did know the answer to his own question. Neither man probably realized how badly the people in the room were judging them.

“So? Do something about it then.”

“What, and solve all their problems for them? They’re going to have to grow up some time.” Tobirama sniffed haughtily like he had no idea what she was talking about and Touka snickered. She tried to swat his arm for being cheeky but he dodged easily, moving as little as possible as in an effort not to draw his father’s eye yet.

There was no escaping her pointed look however.

“Fine, alright. I’m leaving my administrative duties to you, I hope you know. Enjoy covering my paperwork.” She groaned but, amazingly, didn’t fight him on it.

Saying he would do it and actually forcing himself to step forward to interrupt the stupid measuring contest going on between the pair in front of him were two different matters, though. It was hard to find a place to insert himself without screaming over top of them to get their attention, something he was quite sure would only get him in more trouble than it would solve. His opportunity came in the form of another dig from Tajima.

“How are the people meant to trust the man who leads them if that man will send their children away to die while his own sit safe at home?”

“It is the nature of shinobi to die,” Butsuma retorted in a cold voice. The blankness of his voice, a brief reappearance of the typical Senju control over their emotions, was enough to shock Tajima in to silence and give Tobirama a moment to make himself heard.

“Rather than make a spectacle of ourselves,” he stepped in with a mildly reprimanding tone, “I have a solution if you would both hear it. There are several of the Nara I can list off the top of my head who would be more than capable of taking my place on the land expansion project if I accompany Izuna on his mission. Father, I agree with you that Izuna’s skill set is particularly well suited for this task but Tajima-sama does also have a point. He should have back up. Allow me to go with him; it will make a good show of unity.”

Both of them stared at him with matching expressions of shock. Now a step behind him, Touka turned aside to hide her amusement. It took effort to hide his own exasperation at two grown adults who couldn’t make themselves behave like civilized humans until they were handed a perfectly obvious solution by someone more than twenty years their junior.

“That would be acceptable,” Tajima admitted gruffly, the first to shake himself out of his stupor. Not to be outdone, Butsuma cleared his throat and nodded, visibly ashamed of allowing himself to get dragged in to such a public display.

“Agreed,” was all he said but to anyone who knew him well there were entire layers of embarrassment and resentment buried in that one word.

Nodding back to them, Tobirama very carefully did not sigh. “Excellent. I will find Izuna and have him relay the details of the mission to me. Might I recommend Nara Shikou as my replacement? He displays excellent attention to detail each time I have worked with him.”

Without waiting for an answer Tobirama dismissed himself by turning on his heel and striding forward as though entirely unaware of the large crowd that had gathered to watch the altercation play out. People scrambled to dodge out of his path but he kept his eyes forward, continuing down the hall until he was alone with only Touka’s chakra trailing along at his heels like a small cloud of contained laughter. She followed him until he was just around the corner from Izuna’s office and then stopped him before he could go on.

“Good luck cousin,” she said. “Try not to let him smother you in your sleep.”

“Thanks,” he told her dryly.

She left with a wave and Tobirama took a deep breath before approaching Izuna’s door and waiting until his knock was answered with a curt “Enter.” He wasn’t surprised to be met with a glare or to discover that he had interrupted some sort of meeting, probably instructions for filling in while he was gone. The two women Izuna was speaking to took one look between them and bolted without waiting for permission to leave.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

“I’ve been consigned to accompany you when you leave for the capitol so I’ll need you to catch me up on the details of the assignment.” To his absolute lack of surprise, the irritation of Izuna’s face slipped down in to outright distaste.

“Are you serious? For fuck’s sake. I don’t need a babysitter – and I don’t need help! Especially not from you!” His entire face pinched in a sour look.

Tobirama watched the other man throw up his hands and mutter darkly to himself, questioning for a moment why he had bothered to do this. A brief but well-timed flare of chakra from the floor above them was all it took to reminded him of why. Madara, whatever he was doing, was apparently having a bad day. Hopefully the news that his husband and his brother would be spending some ‘quality time’ together might help improve his mood and clear the dark little cloud that had been hanging over his head lately.

Drawing the length of his ponytail forward over his shoulder and tugging fitfully at the end, Izuna gave vent to a deep sigh of defeat. “I can’t get out of this?”

“Both of our fathers agreed on it.” And he would not be the one to mention that it had been his own idea.

“Ugh. I seriously do not need your help! I can do this on my own!”

“I am sure you are more than capable. For the purposes of this mission you may consider me an emergency exit strategy and an extra pair of eyes.”

“Hmph.” Izuna glared at him. “That’s about all you’re good for, I’ll bet.”

Really it wasn’t worth letting him start a fight over something so petty. Tobirama refused to rise to the bait. Instead he sidestepped the insult and tried to steer the conversation back to business.

“Do tell me if I’ve missed any details but as it stands what I know of the mission is that we are going to the capital to escort the Daimyo’s niece as she travels in secret. To be honest I didn’t look too hard at that request since I didn’t think I was being assigned to it.” He shrugged, pleased to see even Izuna couldn’t find anything wrong with that. At least he wasn’t sticking his nose in everyone else’s business.

“That’s close but not really it. Apparently the Daimyo’s niece has been travelling to a secret location several times a week and won’t speak about where she’s going. He wants us to tail her and stay completely out of sight. If she’s in trouble he wants us to take out whoever might be hurting her. If she’s colluding with his enemies he wants us to gather as much information as possible and bring him evidence of her crimes.” For a moment he looked up to the ceiling as though running through his memories to check if he missed anything. “Anyway, we’re supposed to keep a low profile on our way to the capital and meet with his representative in the market district, at the Red Dog Tavern. They’ll tell us where she leaves town and when to wait for her. We can’t be seen.”

“Nothing too complicated,” Tobirama murmured. Stealth missions weren’t his favorite, he usually found them quite boring even if he did have the patience of a rock when it was necessary to get that all important paycheck.

Izuna leaned towards the window to check the position of the sun. “I was just giving my assistants a few last minute instructions and then I meant to head out. Don’t suppose you’re all ready to go?”

“Give me half an hour.”

“Fine. Meet at the north gate in thirty minutes. If you’re not there – well, you’re a sensor aren’t you? I’m sure you can find me and catch up.”

Tobirama held his tongue and turned for the door. Thirty minutes was more than enough time for him to make it home and grab the mission pack he still kept ready at all times even though he hadn’t found much time for anything other than paperwork since moving here. But there was something else he needed to do before leaving.

Out in the hallway people appeared to be returning to work and a quick scan for their chakra signatures showed that Butsuma and Tajima had ended their fight in one manner or another, now heading in opposite directions. He could only assume to cool off after embarrassing themselves so thoroughly. With so many people in his way it took a minute or two longer than expected for Tobirama to make it up to the next floor and poke his head in to an office he hadn’t actually spent much time in, both despite and because of who was inside.

Hashirama looked up with a big smile when he entered and Tobirama nodded in return, flicking his eyes over in Madara's direction.

“Could you give us a few minutes?” he asked. His brother stared.

“Like, alone?”

“Yes, you idiot, I would like a few minutes alone with my husband if that isn’t too much trouble.”

“So cute!” Hashirama was up out of his chair in a flash and shoving his way out the door. “Maybe I’ll nip down and visit Mito! Oh this is fun!”

He was gone almost before he was finished speaking and Tobirama was shaking his head as he stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. Madara watched him curiously with a hint of trepidation that he entirely understood. ‘We need to talk’ wasn’t usually the sort of conversation opener that implied anything positive was about to come. 

“It’s not anything bad,” he hurried to say when it looked like Madara was starting to brace himself. “I just didn’t want to leave without saying anything to you.”

“Leave?”

“After this conversation, yes. I’m being sent along with Izuna on his mission.”

Madara rocked back in his seat, eyes wide with surprise. “Kami save us all.” His response startled Tobirama in to a wide eyed expression of his own.

“I…thought that would please you.”

“Sending you both off alone and unsupervised? If neither one of you kills the other I will be greatly surprised.” With a low groan he ran a hand through his hair. “You two don’t exactly have a great track record for getting along so far.”

Tobirama scrunched his nose. He deserved that. “Regardless, we’ll need to make at least some sort of effort. I’m not certain how long this should take, hopefully no more than a week all told even with complications, but I wanted to let you know where I was going before I disappeared without warning.”

“I appreciate that,” Madara told him quietly.

“Right.” His message delivered, Tobirama wasn’t really sure what else to say. Yet strangely he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave yet either. He did ask for a half hour and if he wanted to waste chakra on a body flicker it would take less than a minute to flash home, retrieve his kit, and reappear at the meeting point.

“You’ll be careful?”

“I- yes?” The question threw him a little. He couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him to be careful on a mission. Usually it was just implied.

“Good.” Madara cleared his throat and valiantly strove to maintain eye contact. “I’m too young to be a widower so neither one of you are allowed to actually die, understood? A little maiming at most if you absolutely can’t control yourselves.”

Not bothering to fight the sudden smile, Tobirama nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

He hovered for a few another minutes, unsure of what to say and almost hoping Madara would ask him something else, but the moment was made awkward by neither of them quite knowing how to handle it. This was the first time since they were bonded that they would be separated for longer than a day or two and of course it came now that neither of them laid awake at night wishing for a way to escape from the other.

Eventually Tobirama decided that there was little point in standing around staring at each other and he murmured his goodbyes. Madara's gaze burned hot on his back as he let himself out of the room. Their conversation hadn’t lasted very long so he still had quite a bit of time; he used it to walk home at a leisurely pace and take in the sights of the village for no other reason than it pleased him to do so. It truly was amazing what all these clans had accomplished together, the peace that they had built and maintained after so many years of warring senselessly against each other.

Once he had his things he set off again for the north gate at the same easy speed. He could have used his time to say goodbye to Hashirama but surely Madara would mention where he had gone and it likely would have taken longer than the thirty minute time frame to remove himself from his brother’s clutches. Hashirama’s goodbyes had never been quick.

When he arrived at the gates he still had several minutes to spare but he found Izuna already waiting with impatience stamped across his face. He took one look at Tobirama, huffed, and turned away to set off down the path without so much as a word of greeting. It didn’t surprise him, really. That was probably the sort of behavior he had to look forward to for most of their journey – but he had chosen this for himself so he could hardly complain. If not a chance to make friends or make peace this could at least be a chance to come to some sort of agreement. Even if that agreement was simply not to argue too much in front of Madara.

They both cared for the same man and wanted him to be happy and so they would both need a plan to work towards that goal. If Tobirama could find nothing in Izuna _not_ to hate then he would do his best to find something tolerable in the man and focus his attention on those qualities. Or maybe he would just drag them out to the sparring fields so they could beat on each other without fear of worrying anyone else or causing undue offense.

Actually that was a decent idea. He would need to keep that option in mind should this venture prove a complete failure.

Several long steps brought him up to walk at Izuna’s side where his brother-in-law gave him an evil look most people would save for a particularly disgusting piece of garbage or an enemy that had haunted them for years gone by.

“Just don’t get in my way, Senju,” he growled.

“Let’s talk exit strategies,” Tobirama deflected. Talking about the mission was probably a lot safer than giving voice to any of the several responses that leapt to mind.

Thankfully Izuna allowed the change in subject, though he contributed only begrudgingly and continued to make himself as difficult to work with as possible. It took everything Tobirama had not to snap at him before they had traded a dozen sentences back and forth but he held on to his temper with a white knuckle grip and told himself that if he could just make it through this one mission, if he could just prove to Izuna that they could live with each other in some way, the rest of his life would be a lot more peaceful.

And Madara would be a lot more happy.


	15. Chapter 15

Madara had never been all that fond of irony. There had always seemed to be an element of self-deprecation to it that he did not appreciate and usually he did his best not to connect his past actions with current results unless they reflected favorably upon him. It was a little hard to ignore the irony now, however, as he wandered from room to room in the quiet of his home and thought to himself that he was finally alone, finally he had a guarantee that Tobirama would not be returning for several days, and now that he had what he had wished for so many times he felt only loneliness. Even the weeks when Tobirama had done all he could to avoid the house until Madara went to sleep hadn’t felt this lonely.

Wandering in to the office, he immediately turned and restlessly wandered back out, unable to conceive of sitting down to get anything done even if Tobirama had made it clear that he didn’t mind Madara using the desk space he had set up in there. He made several turns around the living room and stopped by the kitchen to peek his head in the fridge a handful of times despite not even being hungry. Loneliness was not something he’d ever had to deal with before; he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

It probably wouldn’t have been so difficult to deal with if he understood why he was feeling this way. This was hardly the first time he’d been alone in a house before. Growing up in a clan of shinobi meant that he had survived plenty of long stretches when all of his precious people were away for days or weeks or even months at a time on important assignments. Before he’d always seen it as a boon, a fun sort of vacation when he had all the space he wanted and he could do anything without worrying about bothering others or getting in trouble for acting obnoxiously in shared spaces. He wasn’t sure why it was so different now when the only person he lived with was Tobirama.

Muted knocking on the front door snapped him out of his daze and Madara perked up, more than ready for a little company. Hopefully it was Hashirama come to invite him for dinner. Hell, at this point he would even look forward to his father showing up to yell at him for something. At least that would break up the monotony and give him something to focus his aimless energy on.

Upon opening the door, however, he wasn’t at all prepared to look down and find a pair of wide, earnest eyes staring back up at him with ignorant happiness.

“Hi Madara-sama! Is sensei home? It’s time for lessons and he’s late! Sensei is never late! Should I be worried? I wouldn’t like it if anything bad happened to him again, he promised it wasn’t that bad before when he got blown up but I know that grownups always lie to kids so that we won’t be extra worried-”

“Breathe Kagami,” he inserted himself between one word and the next, a little overwhelmed by the flood.

“Sorry! Sensei says it’s okay if I talk a lot as long as I do my lessons at the same time.”

“Ah. Tobirama is not home, Kagami.” Madara frowned. “I’m not surprised he forgot to send word to you since he left in such a hurry. He got called away on a mission.”

Immediately the boy’s expression drooped with exaggerated sadness. “Oh. So…no training?”

“Not this week.”

“Aww.”

Tiny shoulders folding inward, one foot lifting to kick at a piece of dust on the porch, Kagami looked like so dejected that Madara felt his heart almost melting in his chest. Almost. Not really, of course. He was much too adult to be swayed by one puppy face from a disappointed little boy.

“Would you like to come in?” The offer slipped out without thought and he nearly kicked himself. What did he have in his house to entertain a child with? But it was already out there and Kagami had already gone bouncy with joy.

“Really!? Cool!” He was scrambling around Madara's legs in an instant, leaving him standing in the open doorway staring down the street.

“Of course, please show yourself around,” he mumbled under his breath as he closed the door.

Tiny sandals left in a messy heap almost tripped him up when he turned around. Kagami always had moved quickly when he was excited. Madara found him standing in the middle of the living room almost vibrating with energy as he tried to take everything in at once.

“Is that your couch? That looks like a pretty comfy couch. Sensei says that sometimes he sleeps on the couch so that he won’t disturb you and I think that’s really nice of him, don’t you? Do you have a lot of trouble sleeping, Madara-sama? Mama says that if you close your eyes and count shuriken then you’ll fall asleep faster and that works for me! Maybe it would work for you too!” His smile was bright and beaming, so full of innocence, entirely unaware of what Tobirama had probably meant when he admitted to sleeping away from their marriage bed.

“How long ago did he tell you that?” Madara asked carefully.

“Um…I dunno. It was a while ago. I think it was when the dog next door had her puppies and they’re really big now!”

That made him breathe easier. He knew very few families in their clan who owned dogs and only one of them had whelped that he knew of but that had been sometime a few months back, just around the period when he and his husband had first began making their efforts to get along better. It was still a revelation that Tobirama had chosen to sleep on the couch sometimes rather than come up to the bed but he supposed it wasn’t much of a surprise when he gave it a bit more thought.

“And how is your training going?” Before the boy could answer Madara interrupted himself to add, “Would you like a snack or something?”

“Yes please! Sensei says it’s important to practice my manners.”

“Learning how to be polite?”

“He says it’s important to know how to please the people you should. And that if you’re going to offend someone you should learn how to do that right too.”

Madara blinked once, twice, then burst out laughing. From what he knew of Tobirama that did indeed sound like something he would say. The man had never been overly concerned with whether or not he hurt someone’s feelings with his words but he did understand when it was necessary to curb his tongue to avoid trouble with one of their fathers or the village High Council.

Once he’d caught his breath back Madara set out for the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder, “And how are you enjoying your lessons? From what I understand things are going quite well.”

Kagami followed him in to the kitchen and bounced in a small circle around the table as he chattered.

“They’re _awesome_! Sensei knows so much! He’s so cool!”

“A fair teacher, then?”

“Uh-huh! He’s nice when I get things right and he’s not mean when I get things wrong and if I ask questions he always answers them and doesn’t just roll his eyes at me like other grownups do. Why don’t grownups like it when I ask them questions?”

Madara tried not to bite his tongue but it was hard to keep the smile off his face otherwise.

“I think many adults lose their patience for questions when they grow older,” he said. Kagami snorted with all the indelicacy of a child.

“That’s stupid. Sensei says that patience is important for all shinobi to learn. He says that being impatient can lead to people getting hurt or failing a mission. Or hurting myself; sometimes he says that I hurt my muscles because I’m trying to go too fast.” Wrinkling his nose, Kagami rubbed at one arm with the opposite hand as though remember phantom pains.

Setting out the bowl of amanattō he had poured for his guest, Madara hummed. “It seems like you take a lot of his lessons to heart.”

He didn’t expect Kagami to sit bolt upright with a worried look.

“Do you think I should die-se-sect more of what he says?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“You mean dissect?”

“That! Yeah!”

“Why would you need to pick apart what Tobirama says to you?” Madara picked out a sweet and popped it in his mouth. “Did he even tell you what that means?”

Kagami finally appeared to notice the bowl but he seemed to think it was imperative that he explain his lesson before diving in. He did keep one eye on the sweets as he spoke though. “Sensei says that it’s important to always think carefully about what people say because they won’t always tell the truth or sometimes what they say will be _their_ truth but it won’t be the _whole_ truth so I should always die-se-sect things so I won’t get fooled!”

“We wouldn’t want you to be fooled by anyone,” Madara agreed in a grave tone.

“Right!” His piece spoken, Kagami practically sprang out of his chair and dug his hand in to the snack bowl.

They both gorged themselves shamelessly on sweets as they whiled away the noon hours talking about unimportant things. Kagami’s favorite subject was recounting endless tales of the taijutsu he was learning or the small life lessons Tobirama imparted as they went through kata together and, while he wouldn’t be caught admitting it out loud, Madara was more than happy to hear every word. It was always fascinating to hear what Tobirama was like around other people and learn new sides of his apparently multi-faceted husband.

Wasting time like this was actually fairly nice. It wasn’t like he’d been doing anything important or productive before Kagami arrived and a bit of conversation that didn’t focus on anything work related was quite nice. His brain felt delightfully emptied out by the time their bowl of sweets ran empty and they were interrupted by another knock on the front door.

Kagami shrugged when Madara assumed a questioning expression.

“It’s not me!” he insisted. “I’m already here!”

“Brat. I know it isn’t you.”

Madara stood from his chair with a roll of his eyes and tottered on down the hallway. Some god had apparently been listening closely when he prayed for company earlier.

His shock must have been stamped plainly across his face when he opened the door because Susumu-sensei took one look at him and began to snicker openly, almost dropping the sizable box clutched between both hands. On reflex he reached out to steady the box and take it from her.

“Put that in the fridge until you eat in,” she commanded.

“Okay…”

“And move! I can’t come in if you’re standing in my way!” Susumu-sensei fluttered her hands at him until he stepped back to give her enough room to shimmy around him in to the genkan.

For the second time that day Madara found himself staring out at his empty porch, talking to nothing but air. “Come in? It’s good to see you?”

“Don’t be catty!” she called back to him as she took off down the hall.

He could hear her and Kagami greeting each other in surprise and immediately chattering away like two old biddies as he closed the door. A quick heft told him that whatever was inside the box he had taken was fairly substantial, probably one of her famous pies. Or perhaps a batch of melon pan since she knew he had an odd preference for eating it chilled.

The moment he walked back in to the kitchen Madara felt something odd and unexpected release in his chest, a pressure he hadn’t acknowledged was even there until finally it was gone. Loneliness seeped away to leave him content and happy as he took in the sight of his ragtag little family members bickering over the empty bowl. Susumu-sensei had always been like a second mother to him in her strange sort of way and it was quite obvious how attached Kagami had grown to his own sensei. Madara supposed it wouldn’t be so bad for the little tyke to worm his way in to their household on occasion, unofficially half adopted as happened so often in their clan.

Luckily he was saved from allowing his thoughts to get too mushy by having them interrupted when Kagami climbed up on to his chair and began crowing that he was bigger now so that made him the adult over her. Madara snorted so hard he hurt his nose. He could remember doing something similar when he was young and it only ever ended the same way as it did now, with an offended squawk from his sensei, wooden spoon appearing in her hand as if summoned there by some kind of jutsu.

“No blood,” he called to them dryly. “If there’s blood I will make you both clean it up yourselves.”

“This brat thinks he can stand taller and be bigger than me just like that!” Heedless of his warnings, Susumu was already wielding her spoon as one would a blunt club.

“That _is_ how size works,” Madara pointed out.

She called him a traitor.

“Why are you here?” he asked when she was done waging war for such egregious insults.

“I heard that husband of yours absconded with your brother and I thought someone should come make sure you haven’t put your pants on backwards or something since you’ve been unsupervised for several days now.” Susumu-sensei grinned. “I was looking forward to finding you in a disaster state.”

“Have I told you lately that I hate you?”

“Your sweet words just fill me with joy, little one.”

Although his kitchen was far from small, with two people here with him it felt much more full, conversation and laughter filling all the empty spaces that had felt so prominent without Tobirama here to fill them. He made a show of his usual irascibility and loudly declared at every opportunity that he hadn’t asked for any house guests but it was obvious that even young Kagami wasn’t fooled. Probably dissecting his every word.

The box he placed in the fridge turned out to be melon pan as he’d guessed, a large enough batch to make bentos for a week and still snack at home, but he got his hand slapped with that infernal wooden spoon for trying to eat a piece. Susumu-sensei chittered at him for ruining his appetite with the amanattō and declared the kitchen her own for the evening, poking her head in to every nook and cranny until she had an idea of what to cook with the things that were available. Madara put up a token resistance but the prospect of indulging in one of her expertly prepared meals was too good to pass up. It had be too long.

With the house so lively with people the afternoon passed him by almost without notice and evening set in far quicker than he expected. Almost before he realized what had happened Madara was lounging on the engawa with his old sensei at his side while they watched Kagami flutter from one side of the backyard to the other catching crickets.

“You really didn’t have to come check up on me you know,” he mumbled over the rim of his tea cup. Susumu huffed and fiddled with the pot still steaming between them.

“Had to come make sure my sweet little muffin was still alive, didn’t I?”

“I’ve survived longer than this on my own before,” he pointed out.

She gave him a flat look. “Just let me care about you, alright? Quite pretending it’s the end of the world every time someone hints they feel some kind of affection for you. Just let your husband kiss you goodnight, let that friend of yours hug you without screaming once in a while, and quit _scowling_ so often. You’ll wrinkle like me.”

“Aw, sensei, is someone self-conscious of their ugly old face?” Madara grinned and had to duck the swipe of her hand, grateful she didn’t throw her tea in his face.

“Excuse you I am a beautiful and delicate flower!”

A doubtful hum rumbled up his throat. “You’re…something.” He dodged another swat and then determinedly set his gaze on watching Kagami play as he asked, “What makes you think Tobirama ever tries to kiss me?”

“Doesn’t he?” she asked incredulously. Madara shifted and fiddled with his cup.

“No. We kissed during the wedding ceremony and he, er, tried to move things in that direction later that night. You know the story. But no, we’ve never…nothing since.” A mouthful of tea seemed like a good excuse to stop the flow of words before he embarrassed himself any further so he took a big gulp, almost choking when it burned his tongue.

“Huh. Do you want him to?”

Madara blinked down at his tea, unsure of how to answer, a little uncomfortable in his lack of surety.

“I don’t know,” he murmured eventually.

“How can you not know?”

“Well I just don’t! I don’t think about that stuff! Or I…try not to? I don’t know, sensei. Ever since we finally worked things out it’s been…pretty great…and I guess maybe I just don’t want to rock the boat. What if things change and it’s weird between us?”

Kagami’s squeal of triumph made them both look over to see him holding up both hands above his head. “I caught one!” he shouted.

“Good, now catch another,” Susumu called. They waited until the boy scampered off to do so and then she turned back to Madara with a careful expression. “You can’t live your life afraid of rocking boats. I know you know that already and I have to admit, I’m surprised. That’s not like you to worry about change. Are you _still_ so hung up on this being an arranged marriage that you can’t even explore that stuff? Not even one little kiss?”

“But it’s not just a kiss! I want–”

“To fall in love, yes, I know. So kiss your husband you idiot. How else do you know if you’re compatible? You think no Uchiha ever ended a first date with a kiss?” She scoffed and Madara suddenly felt very stupid.

She had always had a way of presenting her arguments that just sounded so logical. It drove him up the wall every time that she saw so easily what he had worried himself over for days or weeks – or in this case months.

In his head he had built up the issue as though to fall in love with Tobirama would be an immediate thing. The Senju idea that one should work to fall in love had somehow translated in his mind to the expectation that he would one day simply decide to do so, which was something he just could not conceive of.

But he couldn’t deny that he did find Tobirama interesting and, more importantly, that he found himself _interested_ lately. Until Susumu-sensei had said something he hadn’t considered the idea that their relationship would build just the same as any other relationship he might have chosen for himself. They found each other attractive. If they wanted to they could go on dates and continue to learn more about each other and build the bond between them stronger with every day. The only difference was that they had gotten married before all that instead of after.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to try,” he mumbled, twin pools of heat rising in his face. Picturing what it might be like to kiss Tobirama made something in his belly twist and flip.

“Look”-Susumu-sensei gave vent to a reluctant sigh and checked to make sure Kagami still wasn’t listening to them-“I know that you’ve always believed in our traditions, that you grew up equating sex with love. And I’m not saying you need to throw all that out the window but you’re old enough that I expect you to know that they’re really _not_ the same thing. Sex can happen with no feelings. And love can flourish without sex. I never married myself; do you think I’ve never rolled around with anyone before?”

“I had hoped to never picture it.” Madara shuddered with disgust while she laughed at him callously.

“Oh grow up you prude.”

Rolling his eyes, he finished off the last of his tea and began to fiddle with the empty mug once more. “Are we done with all the deep shit now? Can I go back to pretending you and sex can never exist in the same sentence again?”

“If you keep that up the next time I bake you cookies they’ll have extra lemon in them.”

“You wouldn’t!”

Susumu grinned but it wasn’t the mad cackle he was expecting. It was there and gone, a brief moment of levity that he realized she had allowed only to make him more comfortable. “Little one, I’m sorry that things are so difficult for you.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled. “We all carry on.”

“When it comes to you I have always hoped for more than just carrying on. You gave him a chance and things have been going well. It seems to me that Tobirama might be good for you in some ways.” She paused when Madara cut her off with a snort.

“That’s not what Izuna thinks.”

His teacher rolled her eyes. “That brother of yours has always been quick to judge and once he makes an opinion he never shakes it. You’re allowed to have different opinions than him. Do you like spending time with your husband?”

“Yes.” The response was so natural he gave it no thought.

“And do you like the idea of spending more time together? Maybe a few dates, a little intimate conversation?”

“I…it sounds nice, yeah.”

“Then get your head out of your ass and stop looking at this like it’s a problem you can solve by yourself. If you want to find out whether the two of you might be able to build something more then spend some time with him and find out. For once in your life you _can_ have it both ways.” She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the sky with amusement twinkling in her eyes. “His traditions say that now you two are married he should be doing everything he can to build a relationship in good faith. Sounds a lot like what the rest of the world calls dating. Wouldn’t you say that aligns rather neatly with what you want out of this too?”

Before Madara could say anything Kagami came stumbling over with two more crickets between his hands to proudly show off his success. Desperate for anything to help him escape the current conversation, not ready to answer such a pointed question, he praised the boy perhaps a little too enthusiastically for it to be believable. For his efforts he got compared to Tobirama and his husband’s reserved style of praise. He was found lacking.

As repayment Kagami demanded that Madara help him practice katas since he never did get a chance to train that day. Susumu stayed behind on the porch while the two of them made the most of the space in his rather sizable backyard. While he and his temporary student flowed from one stance to the next Madara realized he could probably exercise at home like this more often and if he invited Tobirama to join him this could be something nice for them to do together. After all, what better activity for two shinobi to bond over?

The sky darkened overhead as they went through their forms and, although he was much too busy for it to occur to him right then, Madara's day was ending with a much happier atmosphere than it had begun. Annoying conversation and all. Later he would lie awake in bed and think hard about the empty space on the other side of the mattress, about what it meant for him to miss the man so much after only a few days apart.

But for now he was content to laugh when Kagami missed a step and went tumbling down on to his ass, happy to have some of his loved ones there with him to keep him occupied. Tomorrow perhaps he would call on Hashirama and weasel his way in to a free dinner. It was nice having so many people to call his own. Nice enough that he thought it wouldn’t be too bad to have just one more.


	16. Chapter 16

They were tired and hungry, their bodies sore, both of them bleeding sluggishly from at least three places each, but Tobirama took a mild sort of satisfaction from the fact that Izuna looked utterly ridiculous with his long ponytail drying in to a stiff cast of mud. He tried not to imagine what his own head looked like but, still, no matter how stupid he looked it could not possibly compare with the hard little tail hanging from the back of his partner’s head.

Chakra flared in the distance and Tobirama struggled up from where his body had almost entirely merged with the thick mud cradling them. Loud, wet suction noises announced his movement and Izuna groaned but did not look up to watch him crawl his way over to the entrance of their hiding spot. He’d told his mission partner they were taking shelter in a cave but in reality he had shoved their battered bodies down in to a hollow area he’d found underneath one of the massive redwoods that made up the forest surrounding the capital city. Their dirty little cavern had only one entrance, easily disguised by stuffing it full of branches and leaves, but in the fog of exhaustion and pain Tobirama realized he’d forgotten to conceal their chakra.

“Abandoner,” Izuna mumbled, barely enough energy left to speak let alone work himself up for a proper accusation.

“I’m not leaving,” Tobirama said. “I’m just- do we have anything sharp left?”

“Your needle?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

A minute of digging brought out the needle he’d used to sew Izuna’s wounds shut. Now he turned it around and dug it in to the wood of the tree, carving a chakra dampening seal in to the root closest to the blocked entrance. Honestly he wasn’t sure either of them even had enough chakra left for someone to sense them without standing on their heads but it was better to be safe than sorry.

When his carving was done he let his body slump back down in to the mud again. Dirty and cold it might be but it was also surprisingly comfortable, something that should probably worry him a lot more than it did. If he had more energy for such thoughts he was sure this situation would seem a lot more serious but right at that moment the only pressing matter on his mind was whether or not he could fall asleep yet and whether Izuna would still be alive when he woke up again.

“How much blood do you think you’ve lost?” he asked. Izuna grunted.

“Dunno. Lots. Probably more than a liter.”

“Ah, you’ll be fine. So long as the bleeding is at least slowing down then we should be able to get some rest before we get the fuck out of here.” Tobirama let his eyes fall closed with a heavy sigh.

Squelching noises accompanied by a few irritable grunts almost convinced him to open his eyes again but Izuna fell still again quickly, clearly giving up on whatever he’d been trying to do. Probably roll over. In the silence that followed it was all too easy to let the dim lighting and the heaviness of his limbs work together to pull him down under the veil of consciousness. Tobirama didn’t so much fall asleep as he did pass out with an utter lack of dignity.

He woke again an undetermined amount of time later. By the solid darkness in their hole he supposed it must be night, although he couldn’t have said whether it was that same night or if they had slept for more than twenty-four hours. Either option seemed as likely as the other. A quick internal scan told him that his body hadn’t recovered quite as much as one might hope but he felt a few steps farther away from death’s door and that was a victory at the very least. It did take a bit of extra effort to free his head from the mud cast that had dried around him as he slept but eventually he was able to haul himself up in to a sitting position and look around for Izuna, forming a weak tongue of flame with a single hand sign.

Covered in dirt as they had both been when they crawled in here, he almost thought Izuna had disappeared so well did the man blend in. It was seeing the faintest reflection on the necklace he always wore that differentiated Izuna from the rest of the lumpy mud. Tobirama fought to free the rest of himself from the dried mess and crawled over to shake his brother in law gently.

No response. Whether that was because he was just too tired or too unconscious Tobirama couldn’t say without a medical diagnosis. Too tired himself to think of a better plan, he figured the best thing to do was for them both to get out of here and at least get some fresh air, maybe dunk themselves in a river if he could find one. Surely all the rain that churned up so much mud would have collected in a few pools here and there. For once the heavy fall rains were good for something other than keeping him awake at night. Breaking Izuna out of his earthen cast took a while with so little strength in his arms and Tobirama had to give himself a few minutes rest before dragging the man’s unresponsive body up out of their hole.

If he hadn’t been monitoring Izuna’s chakra for fluctuations with what little he had gained back himself Tobirama would have suspected it was deliberate that the man chose to finally wake up just as he got them both out in to the open air. After all that hard work he couldn’t decide if he was thankful or irritated to see dark eyes fluttering open and cracking the brown film of dirt that had dried over top of them.

“What in all the bloody hells did I drink last night?” was his first question. Tobirama paused.

“Nothing. Which is bad. Dehydration. We need to find water.” Ironic when last night it had dripped from every surface around them. Autumn was such a garbage season.

“Can I go back to sleep?”

Squinting in the darkness, his light gone out since he needed both hands for all that manual labor, Tobirama wondered if his partner had a concussion after yesterday’s battle. “No sleeping. We already slept. We’re going to find water and I’m dunking you in it.”

Amazingly, Izuna failed to argue with him for the first time since they set off on this god-forsaken mission nearly a week before. If he hadn’t been worried about a concussion before he certainly was now. Up until their track and observation mission ended up in an ambush they barely escaped with their lives Izuna had been questioning his every word and choice, sometimes for no viable reason other than that he seemed determined to fan the flames of his own hatred. It was honestly quite tiring to deal with and if Tobirama hadn’t promised himself he would try to make nice they would have come to blows with each other days ago.

Now there was nothing but silence as he sluggishly worked Izuna’s deadweight on to his own back like a meaty knapsack and staggered forward with lumbering steps. Soft breathing ruffled the few strands of hair that weren’t plastered and dried to base of his neck. For the first little while his only clue that Izuna hadn’t fallen unconscious again was the miniscule fluctuations in his barely-there chakra whenever something caught his interest or a misstep caused pain to flare through both of their bodies. Eventually Tobirama realized his own eyes were drooping as well and if he didn’t find something to distract him he might pass out himself, probably sending them both crashing against a tree.

He didn’t really want to talk about this disaster of a mission, though. The less time spent thinking about yesterday’s ambush the better. Which, of course, left him with very few conversation options so it was no surprise that he turned first to the only thing they seemed to have in common.

“What was he like as a child?”

“Nn?”

“Madara. What was he like when you two were young?”

Silence dragged on after his question to the point when he began to wonder if Izuna were simply ignoring him. Then finally there came a quiet huff of amusement from beside his ear. “He was a dick. Liked to throw me in the koi pond behind our house whenever I was winning an argument.”

Tobirama smiled, almost surprised he still remembered how to.

“A bully, then?”

“No, not really. He just didn’t like it when I was right because he was older and he thought that made him right all the time. I think…he wanted me to know that he would always protect me but he tried to show that by always knowing more, always being stronger, and as a kid that was just really annoying.” Izuna shifted against his back. Tobirama wondered what he was doing for a moment before he realized the man was laughing quietly.

Eager to know more, he prompted his companion to keep going. “Sounds like he was pretty protective of you.”

“He still is,” Izuna mumbled. “He worries over the smallest papercut, he asks if I’m eating right all the time, he’s always reminding me that I can come talk to him if I ever need to. Yeah he can be grumpy and his social skills could definitely use a bit of polish but I’ve never doubted that he loves me. Not once.”

“That sounds nice,” Tobirama admitted wistfully.

“It is. He is.” After pausing for a minute to think he added in a tone that suggested he had almost forgotten who he was talking to for a minute, “You don’t deserve him.”

Whatever reaction he was waiting for, he didn’t get it. Tobirama had hoped they could stretch out the good will for a little longer but he hadn’t bothered to let his hopes get too high. The half-hearted attack was more than anticipated.

“I think I deserve to be happy just like everyone else, although I would agree with you that I haven’t done as much as I should to earn his good will.”

“Damn straight,” Izuna said. He sounded irritated that he hadn’t been able to start a fight.

“You know he would be much happier if we didn’t scream at each other quite so much.” Although he knew the other couldn’t see him, lifting one of his eyebrows in a pointed expression was like a natural instinct.

“Go fuck yourself,” Izuna retorted almost cheerfully. “He would be _happier_ if he wasn’t trapped with you for the rest of his life. Don’t talk about deserving happiness with me. You want him happy? Then let him go. Let him find someone that he actually wants to be with; _then_ he’ll be happy.”

Tobirama didn’t answer at first. He forced his legs to continue stumbling on while he let his thoughts settle, unsteady beneath their combined weight yet refusing to give in so easily. There had to be some water around here somewhere, his instincts told him that he was close and his instincts had never lied about water, not once in his life. It was easier to think about how nice it would be to finally rid his body of all the dirt crusting his skin rather than what Izuna had said to him, especially so since it was something he had already spent a great deal of time thinking about and he had come to his own conclusions a long time ago.

“It is the tradition of my clan to allow an arranged partnership to seek divorce after five years. If, when that time arrives, Madara still wishes to be free of me then I will not stand in the way of him seeking his own path.” He wondered if he should make that more clear to his husband or if bringing it up would only remind the man of how trapped he was for the time being.

“Wait, seriously? Just like that?”

“Much as you seem to enjoy painting me as the villain, yes. Just like that. This match was made originally to cement our clans together but I don’t think either of our fathers could have anticipated just how well the Senju and the Uchiha would integrate. Give our people less than a year and I don’t think anyone will even remember what it was that kept them together in the first place. Certainly none of them would turn their heads if Madara and I…ended our marriage.” Just saying it made all the deepest parts of his insides ache but he refused to allow his voice to waver.

“Ha! See! I knew you didn’t care about him at all! You just married him because you were told to!”

“Of course I only married him because I was told to! We’d never met!” Tobirama scowled down the forest path ahead of them. “It’s what I grew up expecting to do. That is how things are done in the Senju clan. We’re told who to marry and then we make it work.”

Izuna scoffed. “Disgusting.”

“Just because it’s different doesn’t make it disgusting,” Tobirama snapped back.

Then he snapped his head to the left and barely held in a whine of longing. Water. He could _feel_ the water in that direction. He changed course without even thinking about it.

“Doesn’t matter what you say, I think the whole practice is gross. But whatever. As long as Madara has a way out of this garbage then I guess I can put up with you for a few years.” Izuna sniffed delicately. He sure had a lot of attitude for someone entirely reliant on the person they were sassing.

“How generous of you,” Tobirama ground out.

A few steps later they closed their eyes to let a few low hanging boughs brush over them and then there it was, the most glorious sight either of them had ever set their eyes upon even in such low lighting. It wasn’t a very large stream, not even deep enough to go over their heads if they sat down, but the burbling water was crystal clear and it was perfect for two exhausted men who could barely stand the thought of keeping themselves upright for a second longer.

Tobirama staggered drunkenly as he splashed in to the center and a few new bruises blossomed on his knees when they folded to send him crashing down with Izuna still heavy across his back. A sigh of near ecstasy parted his lips as cool water rushed over him. It was almost more than he could process just to keep them both from lying flat out and drowning themselves in blissful relief. Behind him Izuna groaned and rolled away, the first movement he’d made for himself since waking up. The two of them splashed and rolled and rubbed at all the most important spots until finally they felt less like they were wearing an itchy second skin, more like they were human again.

“I’m alive!” Izuna declared with his usual dramatic flair.

“And I’m thirsty,” Tobirama mumbled. Blithely ignoring the screaming protests of his muscles, he dragged himself a few inches upstream to where their filth hadn’t polluted the water and dunked his head for a long drink, just barely holding in a moan as his parched throat finally received the hydration it had been crying out for.

He wasn’t surprised to see Izuna follow suit, dunking his face for a few long droughts of water. Then the two of them were left sitting upright in the center of a small stream without the energy to pull themselves back out.

“Well now what?” Izuna demanded. Tobirama blinked at their surrounds.

“Think you can shuffle over to the bank? Looks like the angle would make a decent backrest.”

“Hn. I can try. But if I slip under the water and don’t come up I will haunt you for a decade if you let me drown.”

Tobirama snorted even as he began his own awkward shuffling. “Noted.”

After a bit of uncomfortable maneuvering they were able to plant themselves in to semi-reclined positions on opposite sides, facing each other across the burbling stream. Their gazes locked and Tobirama tilted his head to contemplate the similarities between Izuna’s bitchy face and Madara's bitchy face. He was pleased to note that, while there was indeed a resemblance, there was enough details different that he wouldn’t be seeing echoes of Izuna every time he had a disagreement with his own husband.

“What do you even want from him?”

“Hm?” The question didn’t seem to have a connection to anything they’d been talking about but, then again, Tobirama’s mind felt pleasantly emptied by the bath and the drink.

“My brother. What do you want from him? Why can’t you just leave him alone?”

“It’s strange to me that you assume I must have some sort of alternate agenda in my own marriage.”

Rolling his eyes, Izuna scoffed. “Don’t act like this is a real marriage to you.”

“How is it not real?”

“You don’t love each other!”

“But we could,” Tobirama pointed out softly. “And that opportunity is what interests me. We _could_ love each other.” Speaking so openly about this sort of thing with Izuna of all people was about as painful as he would have expected it to be but he forced himself not to flinch away from the subject at hand. Clearly these were things that the man needed to hear.

And just as clearly they were things he didn’t want to hear. His already taught expression tightened even more until he turned his head to mime gagging in to the river. “That’s bullshit. As if my brother could ever love you.”

It took every scrap of self-control Tobirama had in his arsenal not to react in any visible way to one of his greatest fears given voice. He had barely even given himself much time to come to terms with that fear, that he might have made himself a failure of a husband, that he might be so unlovable that a man like Madara could turn him away even after they had come so far and he had put in so much effort. With every day that passed he grew more and more attached in the way he knew a husband was meant to but without the power to crawl inside Madara's mind there was no way for him to tell if those sentiments were returned.

“He won’t love you,” Izuna declared in an icy voice. “I know my brother. He could never fall in love with someone like you.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” Tobirama snapped.

“Someone cold! Someone who doesn’t know him like I do! Someone who doesn’t care about him! Or care about anything!” He opened his mouth to keep going but Tobirama had taken about as much abuse as he thought anyone could be expected to take several days ago and now he finally decided that enough was enough.

“I dragged your sorry ass to safety, didn’t I? You talk about me not caring but I’m the only one between us thinking about how our fighting affects the one we’re fighting over! If you had listened to a word I’ve said for the past week you might have noticed that I am trying damn hard to learn about him – but no! How am I supposed to ‘know him like you do’ if you won’t tell me anything? Do you know what I think, you spoiled fucking child? I think you’ve gotten too used to being the most special person in Madara's life and you feel threatened that someone else might come along and dethrone you!” Turning his head, Tobirama spit downstream to show his derision. “Well let me tell you something, princess. That’s stupid. If Madara falls in love with _anyone_ that doesn’t mean he’ll stop loving you. You’re his brother. So get over whatever dumbass complex you have and let him decide what makes him happy!”

Exhaustion settled over him anew in the wake of his outburst. He could hardly remember the last time he’d said so much at one time outside of the meetings when he gave presentations. Even Izuna seemed shocked in to silence, completely still and staring back at him with both eyes open wide, jaw hanging loose. It was a hilarious and fitting look for his stupid face.

Tobirama lifted both hands out of the water to drag them down his own face. Despite how satisfying it had been to vent all the frustration that had been building over the course of their time together he was more than aware that he had probably just driven an even bigger wedge between them than ever before. Yelling at the brother in law he’d been looking for a way to schmooze definitely wasn’t the way to win himself any forgiveness.

And yet there was something contemplative in Izuna’s silence, a fragile note of tremulous realization. The silence lasted for a long time after Tobirama’s impassioned speech. Neither of them spoke for so long that he actually felt like his body had begun to recover and the current of the river they were still sitting chest deep in had time to work like a gentle massage, rejuvenating him the way falling unconscious for several hours hadn’t. He’d just started thinking about the possibility of moving to find actual shelter where he could bandage both of their wounds properly when Izuna finally spoke again.

“Madara can fall in love with whoever he likes,” he began slowly, “and I won’t try to stop him. It’s my opinion that I don’t think he will ever love you but if I’m wrong then I’m wrong. Just as long as he’s happy.”

“That is all that I hope for as well,” Tobirama said.

“Fine. So here’s the deal. I don’t like you. The way you guys were forced together feels immoral to me and there’s just something about you that always rubs me wrong. But if it’s really stressing him out so much then I guess I’ll just try to visit when you’re not there.”

While that did sort of undermine the point Tobirama was trying to work his way around to he was smart enough not to point that out. Just getting Izuna this far was a greater accomplishment than he’d started to believe was possible and he was no stranger to the concept of quitting while he was still ahead.

“I can live with that much,” he agreed. “We should get out of here. My chakra isn’t quite at the level I need it to be yet so we should probably get some clean bandages on your leg until a medic can see it.”

“Chakra? What are you gonna do, body flicker halfway across the continent?” Izuna snorted.

Smiling to himself as he forced his legs to stand up and wade across the flowing stream, Tobirama hummed agreeably and thought of the new seal he’d been so proud of himself for finally completing. “You would be amazed how far I can reach.”

“Believe it when I see it,” Izuna said.

There wasn’t much he could think of to say in response that wouldn’t cause a fight so instead Tobirama grunted before leaning down to haul Izuna up to his feet. “Carried or walking?”

“Carry me.”

“Lazy.”

“And yet you are going to carry me anyway.”

Tobirama made them both stand face to face so he could say, “My other option is letting you expire here alone in a stream because you are too stubborn to get up and follow.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, quickly turning and ducking down so he could fit the shorter man’s arms over his shoulders and get a solid grip under both knees. Then he stood up and waited for his new burden to shift in to a comfortable position before wading back out of the stream and heading back in to the quiet forest. If not for the distant sounds of wildlife he might actually be a little suspicious of how quiet the woods around them were and how long they had gone without sensing anyone even sort of close by.

Whatever had become of the squad that quite literally ran them in to the ground yesterday, that would have to be a problem for later. For now Tobirama set a course for the brilliant spot on his senses that had to be the capital city and headed out at an easy pace.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” Izuna demanded.

“Do you always need something to be complaining about?” he retorted. “Yes. I can feel where the closest dense population is and it’s straight ahead in this direction.”

“Freak. How the hell can you sense that far when you don’t even have enough chakra back yet for a jutsu or something?”

“I was born with my inner eye open, as Hashirama likes to say.” He would have shrugged if not for the weight on his back. Izuna grunted and fell blessedly silent with no more arguments.

Although he had very little trust in the longevity of that silence Tobirama figured he might as well get as far as he could before the bickering started up again. With his gaze set dead ahead and his senses spread out to watch for anyone approaching he let the rest of his mind wander back to Konoha where a warm bed awaited him along with a husband who he could only hope missed him even half as much as he missed Madara. 


	17. Chapter 17

Of course, because nothing else had gone right for the entire duration of this stupid mission, they were still several miles out when Tobirama felt the approach of multiple chakra signatures he recognized as the ones that had ambushed them several days before. Even before he took the time to inform Izuna of what was happening he turned and bolted in a different direction. Neither of them were in any condition to put up a proper fight quite yet and if Izuna’s leg took any more damage Tobirama feared he might lose the limb entirely.

For a mile or two it seemed like they’d turned aside just in time to escape unwanted notice and after a quick explanation hissed over his shoulder Izuna agreed that they might actually make it out of this without any further trouble. They were both proven wrong almost as soon as they reached that rare agreement. As if to mock them for getting along in even that small respect the signatures Tobirama was mentally tracking took a sharp turn and began heading in their direction at high speed, clearly with a single purpose in mind.

“Hang on tight,” Tobirama murmured. As he had tried to impart on many of the younglings he’d taught over the years, there was no shame in retreat if it was the only option with any chance of keeping you alive.

Unfortunately his body was still too tired to reach the same levels of speed he was so infamous for. No matter how hard he pushed his legs the squad behind them was catching up and Tobirama wanted to grind his teeth with frustration when Izuna reported their pursuers were now in visual range, still several miles out from the city. With safety just barely out of reach he stopped and put his back to the biggest tree he could find to gently slide his mission partner to the ground. Fighting with Izuna still clinging to his shoulders could only lead to both of them getting killed; better to play the defensive role with a miniscule chance of success rather than basically throwing them both headfirst in to their own graves.

“Well look here,” the woman in front cooed mockingly as they all stopped a dozen feet away. “Two birds fluttering around in a cage. Time to die little birdies.”

“You aren’t half as intimidating as you think you are,” Tobirama informed her coolly.

“And you’re not half as dead as – shut up! Laugh it up, Senju, while you’ve got the chance!”

Tobirama narrowed his eyes as all four opponents facing him came forward in a close knit formation, quite stupid for anyone who knew of his abilities in battle. Flexing the fingers on both hands and already studying the patterns of their movements, watching for an opening to steal a weapon for his own, he tutted as though to reprimand a child for misspeaking.

“You should really research your targets a bit better. I am a married Uchiha now and you would do well to remember that,” he scolded them. The same woman scoffed as her associates stopped in a tight bunch just behind her.

“Why, what are you going to do, roast us with a little flame now that you’re an Uchiha?”

Since he was a professional shinobi Tobirama didn’t see any reason to give her the satisfaction of a warning but yes. That was absolutely what he had planned to do.

Digging deep in to the mostly empty well of his chakra he pulled at the scraps and edges of energy he couldn’t really spare but was prepared to use anyway and brought one hand up in front of his lips. The woman had no time to scream when he breathed a tongue of flame in her face. Her skin melted and the clearing was immediately filled with the scent of burning hair, increased by the two others behind her that also got caught in the blast. Tobirama staggered and nearly collapsed after expelling so much of what little chakra he had managed to recover but forced himself to stay standing. After all the effort he had gone to just to keep Izuna alive he was hardly going to fall over and let him die so easily now. Unfortunately his bit of fast thinking left him unable to reach for the only big defense they had left. The Raijin no Ken lay sealed neatly in his arm but without the chakra to wield it or even to activate the seal it was little more than a pretty tattoo mocking him in black ink. For now the only weapon he had was his own body, finely honed yet nearly empty of all energy.

With one opponent down and two frantically trying to put out the fires on their heads that left only one very angry man to come at Tobirama in an insultingly sloppy frontal assault, not a single thought for his weakened state or how easy it would be to take him out from afar. Not that Tobirama was all that upset at having a chance to defend himself with tired arms that felt like lead as he forced them to lift and block each blow with very little finesse.

It was more dumb luck than anything else that knocked the kunai out of his opponent’s hand, a poorly executed swing that he managed to intercept at just the right angle to hit a nerve ending and jar the man’s hand, sending the blade spinning down in to open space. Tobirama snatched it out of midair on sheer instinct and jamming it in to the side of the neck exposed to him was nothing more than a natural extension of such a movement. He was almost surprised when he found himself the one left standing but there wasn’t much time to contemplate his victory, not when the other two had finally gotten themselves sorted out and were both coming towards him with matching expressions of angered pain.

Holding his defensive stance had never been as crucial as it was in that moment, knowing that an ally lay behind him immobilized and unable to defend themselves. Tobirama forced his arms to lift and fall, redirecting the weapons seeking his already tired flesh, forced his legs to shift and sway as he utilized every obscure taijutsu trick in his arsenal just to stay alive. Out here in the middle of the forest so far from home he knew that no help was coming and he would either have to see them out of this situation himself or fall here and allow Izuna to follow after.

Clearly his only option was to pray for a miracle.

And, incredibly, a miracle is what he got – two of them, in fact. The first miracle came when one of the men attacking him lost their footing and gave him the perfect opening to jam his stolen kunai straight between the second and third ribs, losing his own weapon when it got stuck in a bone but catching the sword that dropped from a spasming hand. With the new blade he had a longer reach and managed to drive the single remaining opponent back while the one he had just stabbed fell to one side and bled out of the forest floor. Something that felt a great deal like hope began to swell in Tobirama’s chest as it looked like he might actually make it out of this alive.

His second miracle was more of a convenient tragedy than anything else but he was so tired already that it was hard for him to tell the difference anymore. Izuna’s warning shout was so much of a surprise that Tobirama stupidly reacted to that rather than the man rushing him from the front and yet in a stroke of luck he still managed to bring his sword up at such an angle that when his opponent ran him through he returned the favor leaving them chest to chest, each with a blade in their stomach.

They stood locked together and all Tobirama could concentrate on was the surge of adrenaline finally kicking his brain in to gear, the world around him standing out in crystal clarity. He was about to die. Already injured and at the end of his rope he didn’t exactly have much blood left to lose and now here he was with a sword in his gut and his weight rocking forward to balance himself on the man that had put it there. The plan he came up with was stupid and reckless and he knew that the moment he came up with it. He also knew that there wasn’t much time to think of other options.

When he pushed himself away from the man dying in front of him he fell close to where Izuna lay screeching and cursing him six kinds of a fool. Ignoring the vicious swearing in his ear, Tobirama did his best to ignore the searing pain as he lifted the pouch he’d just stolen from a stranger’s belt.

Every shinobi carried a medical kit of some kind on them even when they carried little else but weapons. Their lives were danger and blood. Anyone who couldn’t keep that blood inside wasn’t likely to make it back home. His own had been all used up and discarded already but here was a freshly stocked kit delivered oh so kindly right in to his hands and there was only one item inside he was interested in.

“I’m about to do something really stupid,” he choked out. Struggling to get himself in to a sitting position, Izuna gave him a wild-eyed look.

“You just did about fifteen other stupid things! What the hell! You don’t let people _stab you,_ that’s battle lesson number one!”

Tobirama ignored him as he started in to really a good rant, tossing the kit aside once he had what he wanted and popping the cap off a small clear vial. His hands were already shaking enough to encourage several of the little pills inside to roll out on to his palm. Before Izuna could protest he had shoved them all in his mouth and crunched down.

“What the hell were those!?”

“Chakra pills.”

“You just–! With that many you’ll overdose!”

“Maybe.” Tobirama swallowed the powdery mess dry, wrinkling his nose against the bitter taste. “Shut up for two seconds and listen. This is what’s going to happen. I’m going to take us back to the capital city because it’s closer and I’m less likely to blow out most of my chakra pathways getting us there. You’re going to scream bloody murder and get us to a hospital. If I’m lucky maybe you can get me there fast enough that I don’t die.”

Izuna spluttered with rage while Tobirama closed his eyes, feeling the unnatural surge of energy boiling uncomfortably under his skin, bubbling like a pot about to overflow and filling him up until he could almost understand what a volcanic eruption felt like in the moments just before the explosion.

“You’re insane!” Izuna told him. “And what the hell do you mean you’re going to take us in to the city? We’re still miles away!”

“Let me introduce you to my new favorite jutsu,” Tobirama murmured.

Just before it felt like the excess chakra might burn him up he slapped a hand down on Izuna’s arm and _reached_ for the seal he had placed on the contact they met with before this whole fiasco began. The world blurred around them for less than a second and when it solidified again they were in the center of the bright seething mass of chakra that had been calling to him like a beacon of safety since they crawled out from underneath that blasted tree. Clearly he had been right in identifying their poorly disguised contact as the Daimyo’s personal assistant; he would know those disgustingly over-embellished ceilings anywhere.

A wheeze escaped him before he could say anything but that was fine. Someone nearby was screaming and even through the high-pitched ringing in his ears it sounded enough like Izuna to assure him that things were all going according to his slapdash plan. The rushing massive intake and output of chakra left him feeling hollowed out as though someone had scraped at his insides with a jagged rusty spoon and he was all too grateful for the darkness creeping in at the corners of his vision.

Whether he lived or died now depended on how quickly others reacted to save him but that was out of his hands now as he had known it would be. Tobirama wasn’t sure if he closed his eyes or if his body was failing him. All he knew was the fading until all the world was silent for a blissful moment. And then he was gone, pulled under the tide.

-

A flash of sound, distant, distorted as though underwater. It called to him. Tobirama considered answering for a brief moment. Then it was gone and he slept again.

-

Light. The rosy backs of his own eyelids with sunlight pooled warm over his body. Someone was touching him. He wanted to tell them to stop but his limbs were just so heavy. It was easier to let the darkness rise and lose himself again.

-

“-bury you under a fucking mountain or something, I swear. I’d say throw your body in a river but you’d probably like that. Freak. With your water and your teleporting and your stupid self-sacrificing. Aniki is never going to let me live this down. You better wake the fuck up or I swear-”

Izuna’s voice continued to drone on but Tobirama had already lost his grip and gone back to sleep.

-

The world was quiet when he finally woke completely. The insides of his eyelids were dark enough he thought he might have come to in the middle of the night until he cracked them open with a great deal of effort to see that curtains had been drawn across the window beside his bed. By the luxurious décor he guessed himself to be in the palace still but that seemed less important than staring up in to the empty space above him and coming to terms with the fact that he was still alive. Against all odds he had survived.

Several parts of his body protested when he struggled his way upright but since it was less of a screaming muscle situation and more of a sulking grumble he ignored it easily enough, too curious and brimming with an unexpected amount of energy. The room around him looked like the usual sort of apartment important guests might be given by the daimyo, which probably meant that he had been tended to by a private doctor while he was unconscious. One corner of the room had an ornate dresser decorated in such a way that it nearly disappeared in to the wall designs. Several of the drawers were opened, clothing spilling out from each of them, and on top he recognized the shredded remains of his own shirt. He wondered why they had kept such rags.

Only a few minutes of blissful silence had passed before he picked up the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallways and set his sights on the door, waiting patiently until it opened to reveal Izuna with his eyes already in the middle of a disgusted roll.

“Pompous idiots,” he was muttering to himself.

“You are not a fan of the upper class, I take it.” Tobirama allowed himself a tiny smirk when his question made Izuna jump.

“Holy shit. About time you woke up! Fuck, you sure took your time. If you had slept another couple of days I was about to send a letter for your brother to come take a look at you himself since clearly these ‘high class’ physicians have no idea what they’re doing.”

Tobirama blinked and then shuddered. “I am infinitely grateful that you did not resort to that.”

“What, don’t want big brother to see you being a big weak baby?” Izuna asked in a mocking tone.

“On the contrary, I would rather no one else attend me if it’s necessary. But to call him all the way to the capital because you can’t wake me up? He would be inconsolable and by the time I woke up the entire city would have been drowned in tears. If possible I would rather not deal with that.”

He tried to get a better look at the shadows coming through the curtain to determine the time while Izuna mulled that over. Eventually his companion twisted his mouth in a wry expression and nodded slowly; he’d clearly had enough interactions with Hashirama by now to understand. Other than Mito there weren’t many people who had the patience to deal with so many wild emotions swinging back and forth at a moment’s notice.

“Don’t move,” he commanded. “I’ll go drag that useless physician back here so he can clear you to leave. And don’t you _dare_ tell me you don’t feel like leaving because I am very prepared to drag you with me. It’s been days. I want to go home.”

“Exactly how long have I been unconscious?” Tobirama asked.

“Half a week. So sit down, shut up, and if you move I will beat you back in to a coma.”

“That sounds counterproductive.”

Izuna ignored him, spinning on one heel to exit the door he had just come through. His footsteps echoed just a little more loudly as he stomped down the hallway. In direct contradiction to what he’d been told, Tobirama swung his legs out from under the heavy blankets and stood up from the bed as soon as he was alone. If the doctors here were really that useless then he might as well evaluate himself before anyone else could bungle it. He had picked up enough things from Hashirama over the years that he knew the warning signs of underlying conditions someone with just a smidgeon more pride than him would have ignored.

Thankfully, however, the only thing underlying on his person were the clean undergarments he very much did not wish to know how he had gotten in to. Clearly someone had dressed him a little too intimately while he’d been unconscious. Definitely not something he would include in his tale when he recounted the events of the mission to his husband.

Even if Madara wasn’t going to touch him there he certainly wasn’t going to let anyone else do so. The Senju were raised to take their marriage vows quite seriously.

Careful movements and slow stretches gave him a good idea of how well his body had recovered and a quick internal scan told him that his chakra levels were back up to where they should be. None of the bones he had suspected of being broken seemed to be causing any pain, most of the bruises from their mission were fading gradually to yellow, and all of the places where he hadn’t had enough thread to sew himself up after he’d done the same for Izuna were all healing well despite that. Overall the only thing that wasn’t top notch was his belly but even that seemed to have gotten some sort of professional attention. Perhaps Izuna’s poor review of the physician had been a little exaggerated.

He had his chance to find out soon enough when the door opened once again to admit Izuna, who immediately looked pissy to see him out of bed, and a portly man in his middle years with well-oiled facial hair and clothing that had clearly been gifted to him. No medicinal professions Tobirama knew of paid enough for the finery this man was wearing. Yet his expression was kindly and his voice soft as he urged his patient back towards the bed for a proper examination.

The questions he asked felt endless but Tobirama could at least see the purpose behind each one, which was all that kept his patience in check until finally he was allowed to stand again and resettle his shirt to hide the bandages around his middle.

“I recommend light physical activities until the wound has completely healed. The stitches will need to be removed by a doctor in your own village but they must remain at least until the flesh is able to stay closed without them.” He smiled as he packed up the instruments he had used for his exam. “Remember to stay hydrated as well. Many people underestimate how important it is to drink water and eat properly during a time of healing. Give your body the tools and in return it will build you strong again.”

“My thanks, doctor. I will remember.”

“You are both free to go then, so long as your journey will not be strenuous. I know how you shinobi types enjoy hopping between the trees as you do but I would strongly recommend against it.” He tutted disapprovingly and Tobirama couldn’t help but smile.

With a respectful bow as low as he could manage with an injured stomach, he thanked the man again and then cast about the room with a questioning look as soon as he was alone with his mission partner. “I’m not walking home in pajamas. You look like you’ve got some nice new clothes and the daimyo is many things but he isn’t stingy. Where’s mine?”

Izuna grumbled but stomped over to one of the open dresser drawers and pulled out a small pile of fabric to throw in Tobirama’s face.

As Tobirama dressed he listened to Izuna recounting how the Daimyo reacted to the knowledge that his niece had indeed betrayed him, colluding with those who opposed him to plan a coup with the intent that she might take his place ruling over Hi no Kuni. Like a true politician he had allowed nothing to show on his face but, according to Izuna, there was no hiding the pain in his eyes. All things considered Tobirama couldn’t say he would do any better in the face of such heart breaking news as the betrayal of his own beloved kin.

Once he was dressed they attempted to present themselves to the Daimyo but were told that he was much too busy dealing with the consequences of the news they had survived to bring him and so they slipped quietly out of the palace without delay. Both of them chafed at the slower speed of walking as soon as they stepped foot outside the city borders. Izuna eyed a horse-drawn cart when it passed them by, a textile merchant on his way back from market, and although Tobirama could hear the longing sigh he said nothing. All the bumps in the road would probably hurt his belly more than leaping about through the trees would; if he didn’t want to tear out his stitches they were better off taking the slowest route.

“Kami this is going to take forever,” Izuna whined after they had walked for a half hour and covered less than half the distance they should have.

“If you complain the whole time it will certain feel that way,” Tobirama muttered under his breath.

“Can’t you just flash us home the same way you flashed us in to the city?”

Tobirama wrinkled his nose. “I’ve never had occasion to test my range with that jutsu and I’m not sure it would be the smartest idea to do so when I am already recovering from an injury.”

“You mean I might get rid of you faster? Damn. You should do it.”

“How very thoughtful of you to be so concerned for my wellbeing.” Now it was his own turn to sigh. “Unfortunately you’re just going to have to exercise your patience. Either that or you can go on ahead and explain to our fathers why you chose to abandon your assigned mission partner despite being well aware of his _delicate_ health.”

Izuna gnashed his teeth together. “The only thing delicate about you is your sensibilities.”

“Ooh. Ouch. Someone get me some ice for that burn.”

“Hey fuck you!”

“I would rather you not.”

“Ew! Not with a ten foot pole! I hate you _so much_, Senju.”

Tobirama’s first instinct was to snap back that he was, in fact, an Uchiha now. Instead he turned his head to snicker at the trees lining both sides of the road they were walking on. He was more than aware that laughing would only rile Izuna up a little more but after everything he had gone through over the past few days he was pretty sure he’d earned the right to a bit of entertainment.

As predicted, it did feel like it took forever to make their way back to the village. In fact it took them two full days when they could have covered the same distance in less than twenty-four hours if they were travelling at full speed. The closer they got the more Izuna almost seemed to vibrate with energy until finally they were close enough for even someone without Tobirama’s sensing abilities to feel the roiling mass of chakra signatures that was Konohagakure. Just being close enough to feel their loved ones nearby, healthy and calm as the evening grew later, was enough to draw almost all the tension from their bodies.

Closing his eyes and trusting his feet to carry on along the path, Tobirama passed over Touka and Hashirama and Mito, took a moment to identify Kagami and several members of his birth clan who had carved out a soft spot in his heart, before turning his attention to the burning star that was Madara. In the middle of the Uchiha district where they had made their home his chakra smoldered with the specific banked ember feeling of someone sleepy and ready for bed.

Hopefully he hadn’t been too worried to have his brother and husband both coming back from their mission a week or more after they were expected to. Tobirama supposed he would find out soon enough. Whether Madara would be angry or snippy or even disappointed in them for making such a mess of things, Tobirama was still looking forward to seeing the man.

He had missed his husband.


	18. Chapter 18

Madara had been in bed for all of ten minutes when he heard the front door of his home open downstairs. Having been staring up at the shadows on the ceiling since he laid down, his gaze snapped over to narrow at the bedroom door, completely still under the covers as he reached out with his senses to get a read on whether or not he should be upset about this intruder. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time Susumu had shown up to leave goodies on his kitchen table while he was sleeping.

As soon as it registered who had actually arrived Madara was tossing off the covers and all but throwing himself out in to the hallway, thundering down the stairs like an excited child. His feet very nearly skidded out from underneath him on the polished hardwood when he turned the corner but he managed to stay upright and then he was bursting out in to the front hallway. And there he was.

Tobirama froze in place to blink at him, still a little hunched over from where he had just set down his pack. A handful of seconds passed in which the two of them stared across the room, both of them drinking in the other’s face after so long apart, but it didn’t last long. Without even thinking about why or whether it was a good idea Madara hurled himself across the room and crashed in to his husband’s chest. Tobirama grunted when Madara slid both arms around his shoulders. At first he didn’t seem sure of what to do with himself, standing awkwardly and just letting himself be hugged, but after a moment or so he did awkwardly circle Madara with his arms like he expected to be shoved away.

Down the street Izuna’s chakra had also come back safe and well, puttering in to his own house with the gleeful sensation of homecoming. Knowing they were both alright choked Madara's throat with relief after all the nights lying awake wondering. He’d sort of gotten used to having everyone all together in one place for a while, had almost forgotten how to deal with the worry of late returns.

It took several minutes for it to really sink in that he was doing nothing but standing still and hugging Tobirama so hard he was liable to split at the seams. Slowly Madara realized how awkwardly the man in his arms was standing, immediately feeling almost guilty for forcing his own emotions like that when he knew Tobirama had been taught since birth not to show such displays so casually. He jerked away like he’d been burned even as he cleared his throat to buffer himself against the discomfort. Although the two of them had been getting fairly close lately it still wasn’t usual for them to express themselves in any sort of physical way. That barrier remained firmly up and almost unsurpassable.

Or it had until Madara threw himself around like some scarlet woman hoping for a little affection.

He almost thought he’d made a mistake until he jerked back and just barely caught the look that flashed across Tobirama’s face, an expression of loss, discontented to have their embrace broken so quickly. If it wouldn’t have been twice as awkward he almost would have leaned forward for another hug but instead he licked his lips nervously and cast about for something to say.

“Welcome home.” The words came out much quieter than his usual strident voice.

“It’s good to be home,” Tobirama replied with equally quiet words and something in the way he looked down at Madara made it obvious that it was not the house he had missed.

“You must be tired.”

“Mostly hungry. Neither of us wanted to stay away any longer so I never got a chance to eat before we left the capital.” Tobirama placed a gentle hand over his stomach. “Izuna did most of the cooking on the way home.”

Cringing with sympathy, Madara stepped back and waved in the general direction of the kitchen. “In that case you must be dying for something with actual flavor. There’s still leftovers from dinner, I’ll heat up a plate while you tell me where the hell you two have been.”

Tobirama’s only answer was a gurgle from somewhere around his midriff and a grateful nod. He followed along quietly as they moved to the kitchen where Madara noticed the slightest tightening around his eyes when he lowered himself very carefully in to the closest chair. Probably an injury, likely in the later stages of healing judging by how easily he was moving otherwise. Once seated he seemed comfortable enough.

Pulling out the rice and vegetable dish he’d whipped up earlier, still much too big of a portion for one man alone, Madara grabbed a bowl and a ladle and then turned to his husband with an expectant look.

“Go on then. Thrill me with your adventures.”

It took more than half an hour to get through the whole story and by the end of it Madara was holding the edges of his chair with a white-knuckled grip to stop himself from doing anything embarrassing. Either gathering Tobirama to his chest and holding him in a protective cocoon forever or running down the street to do the same to Izuna, neither was likely to get a great response.

He was at least glad to see Tobirama eating so well. The wound that apparently stretched across his stomach didn’t seem to have hampered his appetite in any way. As soon as he was done Madara whisked the empty bowl right out from under his yawning face and encouraged him up out of his seat.

“Falling asleep in the kitchen won’t do you any favors. The bed, I think, would be much more comfortable.”

“You’ve never had a better idea in your life,” Tobirama mumbled.

“Excuse you I have brilliant ideas all the time. Just because my head doesn’t constantly spin them out at eighty miles an hour like yours does that doesn’t mean I’m not full of ideas.”

His husband snorted and Madara felt the rising tide of offense pulled back down by a wave of affection. Not many people could get a laugh out of this famously stern man but here at home he was much more open to expressing himself now. The twitch of his lips that Madara chose to accept as a smile stayed in place all the way upstairs where they parted ways for a few minutes so Tobirama could get changed in the bathroom and brush his teeth while Madara crawled back in to his side of the bed.

When Tobirama came back in the room he was watching the same shadows dance that he had been before getting up the first time, almost holding his breath while the mattress dipped beside him to accept the weight of another man. For the past two weeks all he’d been able to think about was how their bed was too big for him to sleep in alone. Now Tobirama was finally back and something still felt off, as though the swathe of no man’s land between them looked somehow wider than ever. Or perhaps it was just that the sight of a back turned towards him felt wrong despite it being the usual way both of them had gotten used to sleeping.

Doing his best not to make his movements too jarring, Madara rolled from his back to his side. But for the first time he rolled to face his husband rather than away and let his eyes trace the shapes Tobirama made under the blankets, the dip of his waist, the swell of his hips and the point of his shoulder above the blanket’s edge. His hand was reaching out almost before he could think about it and he paused just before touching. There he hovered for a few excruciating moments of indecision until he decided that tonight he didn’t want to sleep alone.

Tobirama didn’t jump when he pressed his fingers against the man’s back, though he did tense a little, and his expression was nothing but soft curiosity when he turned to peer over one shoulder. Something in Madara's expression must have made him more curious because all it took was one look for him to shuffle under the blankets until his body faced inwards as well.

Unable to say what he wanted, Madara dropped his gaze to Tobirama’s chest for a visual inspection. Did he really fit there that well or was he just remembering that elongated hug with a bias because it was such a nice reunion? He couldn’t even begin to think of how to ask for what he wanted and so did nothing but lay still, staring in consternation while his thoughts ran in helpless circles. In a clan of people so open with their emotions of course he had to be the only one who didn’t know what to do with his own.

So wrapped up in his own head was he that Madara could only blink and stare a little more when Tobirama shifted enough to lift one of his arms, creating an open pocket in the space between them. It took a few seconds for him to recognize the invitation being offered and when he did a fierce blush crept up the back of his neck. There was really no other way for him to hide it except to scoot forward and burrow underneath Tobirama’s chin, fighting against the urge to hum with glee when he felt two strong arms wrap around him. This was exactly where he hadn’t been able to admit he wanted to be.

Tucked up against his husband, eyes closed, warm from the heat of their bodies so close together, Madara had never felt more like he belonged somewhere. It was both terrifying and thrilling but he did his best not to think about it.

After a few moments of waiting, presumably to see if he needed to squirm around anymore to get comfortable, Tobirama’s body went loose in relaxation and his chin curled down the rest atop Madara's head. The quietest of sighs escaped and then he was gone, heartbeat thrumming steady and slow as he fell asleep just as easily as thinking about it. Madara had to admit he was quite jealous of that ability but it at least gave him a few minutes alone with his own muddled brain trying to get to the bottom of his stupidly confused feelings before sleep took him as well.

If he gave it some thought it would have been the least surprising thing in the world that he slept like a baby lying in Tobirama’s arms all night. When he woke, however, he was more concerned with trying to figure out why he was no longer held in those same arms. Or rather where the hell his husband had gone because he certainly was not in bed any longer. Madara tucked the blankets up under his chin and whined quietly since there was no one there to judge him for not wanting to get up yet. Then he threw them down with a huff and slid his feet out, grabbing the first thing out of the closet that came to hand and stuffing himself in to his clothing with little care.

Just as he reached the first floor and almost before he was pushing his way in to the kitchen Tobirama’s voice was already speaking.

“Would you like some coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

Madara found that he could not answer at first. He stood frozen in the open doorway staring at Tobirama’s back with too many emotions to name filling his throat and making it impossible to speak. Hanging elegantly between Tobirama’s shoulder blades as though it belonged there, the uchiwa fan had never looked so good on anyone else. The dark fabric of the yukata only made it stand out all the more and Madara found himself oddly thankful for that.

When his silence had stretched on for too long Tobirama peeked over one shoulder to make sure he was actually there and all it took was one glance at those pretty red eyes for Madara to know that the choice had been deliberate. His husband had woken that morning and consciously chose to dress himself in the symbol of the clan he once rejected so vehemently.

“Coffee?” Tobirama asked once more.

“Please,” Madara choked out. “One sugar.”

“Heathen. This is good stuff, you dishonor the brew with your sweet additives.”

Scoffing away the stunned expression he was certain had been painted across his face, Madara let the kitchen door swing closed and shuffled inside. “I’ll take my coffee however I like it, thank you.”

“Next you’re going to tell me you want tomato sauce on your eggs,” Tobirama grumbled good-naturedly.

“It’s called ketchup and it’s becoming very popular. You should try it before you knock it!” As he spoke Madara stumped over to the fridge and pulled out the condiment they were talking about since clearly the breakfast Tobirama was poking at involved eggs of some kind.

He ignored the grumbles from over by the stove, dropping the ketchup on the table before joining his husband at the counter to pick up the coffee that he could see now Tobirama had already prepared. When he took a sip there was just the right amount of sugar, no cream, and he wondered how the man had known but didn’t ask. Whether it was good observation skills or just the right question in the right ear he didn’t want to know.

There was no sense in ruining the mystery.

Sipping what might have been some of the best coffee he’d ever tasted took priority for several minutes, although Madara made a point of leaning back against the counter without moving away from his husband to go sit down. Tobirama didn’t seem to mind having him close and it was nice to have someone there with him to start the day. He’d gotten used to such luxuries again.

“I don’t suppose you happen to know of any good tailors?” Unexpected as it was, Tobirama’s voice had Madara blinking rapidly to reboot his mind for a response.

“Tailors?”

“Yes, most of our clothes were actually sewn by other clans and traded for some of Hashirama’s mokuton-grown crops before the village. I, ah, the high collar isn’t really my style and I do like to be comfortable in my clothes if I can help it.” He kept his eyes on the eggs he was cooking but his meaning was clear.

Madara swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. “We have several good tailors in our clan. If you package up all the clothing you’d like to be altered I’ll have someone come pick them up.”

“Just removing the high collars will be enough. Perhaps raising a few hemlines. I prefer slightly more casual clothing than is popular among…us.”

Despite his sentence ending on an almost painfully awkward note his words still sent a rush of warmth through Madara's belly. It was hard to think of a gesture that would touch him more deeply than such open acceptance of the clan they shared now.

“Get everything together and I’ll send for someone today.”

“Excellent. Thank you. How many eggs would you like?” Clearly uncomfortable as the conversation grew dangerously close to being emotional, Tobirama had yet to look away from his cooking again. It was actually sort of cute. Oddly enough, the fact that both of them were a little emotionally constipated sort of helped them communicate, gave them a language they both knew well to converse in.

“Three eggs. You’re making something else with them right?”

“Yes, yes. If you would look two feet to your right you would see the rice cooker almost ready.”

Madara blew a rude noise to break the tension then turned to pull out some dishes to set the table with.

Breakfast wasn’t exactly quiet but neither of them were particularly rambunctious morning people, making easy conversation as they ate their meal. The desperate need to keep Tobirama close after worrying about him for so long, though still present, had faded enough that when he said something about checking in with his family members Madara managed not to hold in any protests. It would be selfish to keep the man here for nothing more than soothing his own mind and he knew Tobirama would come home after anyway.

Instead after they cleaned up from their meal he watched his husband slip away to the Senju compound, probably to visit Touka first, then left their home as well to head down the road. Izuna’s front door had been left completely unlocked for Madara to let himself inside and march down the hallway like he owned the place.

He regretted doing so as soon as he stepped out on to the back porch and found Tajima sitting in one of the lawn chairs with a stiff back and a half empty tea cup in his hands.

Seeing Tajima here in a place he’d wanted to feel safe felt akin to having a bucket of ice poured slowly down the length of his spine. Every time they spoke now he could hear in the back of his mind an echo of the conversation from weeks ago, betrayal still hot and fresh in his chest. He may be warming up to Tobirama now but that did nothing to take away from the anger that his father had cast him aside like so much trash in to a situation none of them had expected he could ever be happy in.

“Welcome,” the man greeted him when he came outside, the authority in his tone suggested he thought he were the owner of this home rather than a visitor. “Take a seat, son.”

Over his shoulder Izuna rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated gesture inviting Madara to do the same thing, the actual resident of the home offering him a seat. Madara settled himself in one of the two empty chairs but didn’t bother reaching for the tea. There was no third cup and he was still full from breakfast anyway.

“A social visit?” he asked, careful to keep his tone light. His hopes were dashed when Tajima’s face tightened.

“Your brother was just regaling me with the tale of his mission. Were you aware that he was injured?”

“I was, yes.” In a level voice with no inflections he added, “Tobirama came home injured as well.”

Tajima scoffed. “A mere ruse. Of course when his intentions went awry he allowed himself to be injured as well to throw Izuna off the scent. Those Senju think themselves so smart.”

“Intentions?” Madara let his eyes flick over to meet Izuna’s, concerned to see the guilt on his brother’s face when he refused to let their gazes meet. Very suspicious, that. Izuna wasn’t usually someone who felt much guilt over his actions. Either he got what he wanted and acted smug or he didn’t and threw a temper tantrum. Madara's little brother was not someone who wasted much time worrying over other people’s feelings. Unfortunately neither was their father.

“Yes, isn’t it obvious? You know as well as I do that idiot Butsuma meant for Izuna to take this on alone. This was a set up! They knew something would happen, they meant for Izuna to be wounded, killed even. Imagine if he had been out there alone, unable to find help?”

“Father, I don’t think–”

“But I do. I _think_ to keep us all alive. And I think it’s about time that this village saw some more focused leadership, someone who won’t send children off to die intentionally.”

Madara resisted the urge to lift his eyebrow. Every shinobi from every clan grew up knowing that any mission, even the simplest delivery run, could end with fatal consequences. Life was uncertain for them all, Izuna was hardly special in that respect much as it always burned to face that knowledge.

“Do I get a guess as to who you envision to be this new leader?” Madara grumbled.

“I don’t like the tone in your voice, boy. Do you have something to say to me?”

Tajima’s expression kept his mouth shut but Madara would certainly have a few things to say the moment the man was gone. More than a few, actually.

Downing his last sip, their father stood with the ease of someone whose limbs had not been twisted and shorn in countless battles. Whatever else he was, Tajima was a tough old bird who took care of himself, smart enough not to let pride get in the way of seeking healing when he was injured. Smart enough to play the long game to achieve whatever goals he set for himself.

“You will keep this conversation between the three of us until I have decided which course of action to take. Clearly Butsuma will not confess his sins in a direct confrontation, no. He even seems to _believe_ the lies that come out of his mouth.” With a shake of his head Tajima set the teacup down and nodded to each of his sons in turn. “I am pleased with both of you as of late. See that it stays that way.”

“Understood,” they both intoned.

“Good day.” With that he left, though neither sibling dared to speak until Madara could feel that his chakra had gone through the home and made it at least one full street away.

Then both of them almost melted in to their chairs and blew out simultaneous breaths of relief. A visit from their father and clan head was always a stressful event. Madara envied the people who could sit and visit with their parents without having to worry about being on their best behavior or even just being deemed acceptable. Sometimes he wished his father would just sit down and have a cup of tea without any underlying threats in the conversation the way they used to interact before their mother died.

“As much as I would love to toss your useless ball and chain in a garbage heap and see him drawn and quartered afterwards”-Izuna sighed-“I know what you’re going to ask and no. There’s no way Tobirama _let_ me get injured. I know what it looks like when someone’s holding back and both of us barely escaped this stupid mission with our lives.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Madara said.

“Honestly I may never forgive him for saving my life.”

“What? Why?”

Crossing his arms, Izuna’s entire face soured. “Now I _owe_ him or some bullshit. I still hate him! Let’s make that clear. I still think he’s nowhere even close to good enough for you and I hope he falls in love just in time for you to leave him. But…whatever. He talks a lot of bullshit but he had one good point at least, much as it pains me to admit that.”

“Do tell,” Madara asked in toneless words.

“It would just keep you pissy all the time if we’re always screaming at each other in front of you. So I guess I promise to keep it less in your face or whatever. Won’t kill me to wait until the two of you can split, you know?”

“That’s not – never mind. You had a nice thought somewhere in there so thanks for that.” He didn’t much like the implication that Izuna _expected_ their marriage to fail but after the unexpected downer of having to see his father he wasn’t up for getting in to any other bad moods. The visit he had intended was supposed to be a pleasant reunion of siblings after one of them survived the ever hungry claws of death. No surprise relatives or bad attitudes were going to spoil that if he had his way.

By some miracle Izuna didn’t press the matter. He spent the rest of the morning giving his version of what had happened over the last couple of weeks, casting himself as a much bigger hero than Tobirama’s flat and factual report had. Madara had a lot of years taking his brother’s stories with a grain of salt, though, and he knew how to listen between the lines. It didn’t matter what Izuna wanted to believe. Tobirama had saved his ass even more than he would admit.

On the way home after their talk Madara wished he could let the good feelings of close family settle in his bones. He did his best, turning his thoughts away from any distractions and back to Izuna’s wily grin as much as he could, but in the end it was no use. He hadn’t even made it down the street to his own house before thoughts of Tajima wormed their way back in and he felt a stone of worry settle in his gut. Whatever course of action his father decided to take against the stupid problems that existed only in his own head, it wasn’t going to be pretty for anyone.

Torn between loyalty to his kin and clan or loyalty to the peace they were building and the husband he had come to care for, Madara cringed to know that he would someday be asked to make a decision. When Tajima made his move would Madara stand with him?


	19. Chapter 19

He tried to stay at home and wait patiently for Tobirama to come back, he really did. After his time away the man deserved a chance to reunite with his precious ones in private. Unfortunately the encounter with his father had left Madara antsy and his stomach felt tight from the need to share this with his husband. Not saying anything felt like keeping secrets and even though he had no intentions of actually keeping this to himself, obviously planned to bring it up as soon as Tobirama returned, that apparently wasn’t enough for the heavy lead ball that had replaced his heart.

Less than an hour and several anxious circuits around their living room later and he was out the door again with a scowl on his face that sent many people scrambling to get out of his way. Even as he wound through the streets of the Uchiha compound Madara told himself he was being stupid but he couldn’t seem to convince himself to turn around.

Not many people gave him a second look once he made his way in to the Senju compound. Several more people sent him respectful nods than he used to get here and despite being distracted with the heavy issue on his mind he still found a moment to swell with pride. It was nice to see more and more people in the village acknowledging him with respect the way his own clan did.

Tobirama’s chakra wasn’t hard to find and it was no surprise that he would visit Touka first. Actions speak louder than words but words had their own power and Madara had noticed that his husband brought up Touka in casual conversation much more often than he did Hashirama. Clearly he was closer to his cousin than his brother. The idea was a little hard for someone like Madara to wrap his head around who had no idea which of the fatherless brats in the Uchiha clans were his cousins but had almost made an art form out of the protective older sibling routine. It wasn’t for him to judge though.

So focused on his mission was he that Madara very nearly waltzed straight in to the home without even bothering to knock, stopping himself at the last second and freezing in place. Though he was more than certain if it came down to it he could defeat Touka in battle he wasn’t really up for volunteering to fight her on her own turf. He had seen her on the sparring fields enough times to know how much damage she could do to him on the way down and that wasn’t something he wanted to deal with just then. Very carefully he took a step back and knocked on the door, forcing himself to wait politely until the barrier opened to reveal Tobirama with his brows drawn inward.

“I felt you approaching but I assumed you wished to see Hashirama. Is something wrong?”

“Ah…a little…” Madara cleared his throat when he saw Touka appear at the end of the hallway. “Since I know you’ll share whatever I say with her perhaps I might come in and you can both hear what happened at the same time.”

“Yeah whatever, let him in.” Her voice was deep and rich, apparently, when she wasn’t snapping out commands to the rest of the security teams.

The two of them had worked together quite a bit since Madara was assigned head of security but despite the obvious connection between them they’d never made any attempts to discuss personal matters, keeping their conversations entirely professional and always making sure there was a witness in the room with them whenever possible. It was no secret that Touka had very little warm feelings for him.

His first glimpse of the home’s interior was an odd sort of surprise. In a weird way he had expected the upstairs to resemble the laboratory downstairs, cold and minimal, but instead he found a warm cozy little nest with tasteful decorations and artwork on the wall that immediately prompted a mental note to ask for the artist’s name later. Touka gave him a long, slow look before waving him towards a single armchair but Tobirama pulled him down on to the couch with a roll of his eyes and made a point of sitting close enough for their clothing to brush together.

“So, tell me.” Touka lifted the tea she must have been enjoying before he arrived. “What was so important that you needed to come interrupt our private conversation?”

“It’s about Tajima.” All traces of ire slipped away from her face instantly, replaced with a blank slate. From the many meetings they had attended together he recognized the look of a soldier awaiting details and withholding judgment.

“Go on.”

“He got to Izuna before I did this morning and he did not take the news of my brother’s injury very well. Long story short he’s going to be kicking up some sort of fuss but I don’t know when and I don’t know what. What I can tell you is that he’s a dramatic bitch with an unfortunate amount of brains.” Madara pinched his lips together with a sigh. “Actually that could describe a lot of Uchiha.”

Beside him Tobirama’s hand had disappeared inside the clothing Madara had been so proud to see him wearing earlier and came back out holding a small notebook. “I believe we’re going to need that longer story.”

Telling them what happened didn’t take much time. Answering all the questions both of them fired at him one after the other took several times longer than that. He found himself a little surprised that most of Touka’s questions focused on Tajima’s tone or how he held himself when he said what he did but when he asked later she told him it was because she already knew Tobirama would be asking the other important questions. Questions like thought patterns, how he had reacted to similar things in the past, what Madara thought his father meant by specific turns of phrase.

And most importantly: what he thought they should do about it.

Unfortunately that was one question he wasn’t at all sure how to answer. How to react all depended on what Tajima decided to do in the face of what he saw as a betrayal. It also depended on how much support Tajima could count on from the people of Konoha or the high council members. Sadly, he also had trouble predicting which side of the fence Izuna would come down on. If it came to the option of splitting the Uchiha off from the venture they had been a part of setting in motion Madara honestly couldn’t say what his brother would do. The man hadn’t exactly integrated with any grace.

“So this is basically a wait and see situation?” Touka summed up after the questions had been flying for a while. Madara grunted.

“Just don’t hold your breath. He can be patient when he needs to.”

“We’ll be ready whenever he decides to move,” Tobirama said, placing one of his hands over Madara's and squeezing reassuringly. He wasn’t about to mention it in front of other company but Madara actually found it more reassuring that his husband chose to leave their hands linked together. It seemed oddly intimate from what he had seen of Senju practices but then he supposed that Tobirama considered Touka’s presence still private enough for such displays.

He himself wasn’t all that comfortable with Touka in particular but he had been raised in a clan that saw nothing wrong with publicly expressing themselves so he saw no reason to encourage Tobirama to remove his grip. The firm grip was steadying and it felt nice to have that small weight on the back of his own hand, a small connection to another human being. It was also just distracting enough that he almost missed the dismissive tone in Touka’s voice when she spoke again, a rookie mistake from such a well-trained shinobi as himself.

“Much as I’m sure we both appreciate you bringing this up as soon as possible, I believe I’d like to go back to speaking with my cousin now. He was mine a long time before he was yours.” She lifted one eyebrow in a challenge that he was already puffing up in response to when Tobirama snorted.

“You’ve gone longer without seeing me in the past,” he pointed out, “and you know very well I was leaving soon anyway to go speak with Hashirama about the situation surrounding the Daimyo.”

“Shouldn’t you report that to your father first?” Madara asked. Surprisingly, his husband only shrugged in a careless manner.

“I sent a mission report to him this morning before you woke up, he’s aware of what happened. Anija will have ten times the number of questions to ask. Better to get him out of the way first.” The wrinkled in Tobirama’s nose said he was not looking forward to fielding all those questions.

And what sort of husband would Madara be if he allowed to man to face such horrors alone? “You wouldn’t mind if I came with you to Hashirama's?”

“You didn’t get your fill of his company while I was gone?”

“Well…” Madara cleared his throat and looked away.

Sensing weakness, Touka zeroed in on him like a shark and threw him under the bridge without mercy. “How could he enjoy anyone’s company when he spent most of that time moping at home?”

Flushing in a way that made it very obvious he had something to hide, Madara cleared his throat and hurried to suggest they get a move on over to Hashirama's house. He was very careful not to study the expression on Tobirama’s face while they all stood up. Things had been moving in to uncharted waters between them lately and even he wasn’t sure how he would have liked Tobirama to react to the fact that Madara had missed him while he was away.

The journey over to Hashirama's was short, just a quick jaunt across the backyard, but the man’s expression was priceless to see them all trooping in together. It occurred to Madara that probably some of them were meant to be at work this morning but he could not have cared less. Surely the village could survive some of them being late every so often and if Hashirama was already late to work then he could stand to be a little later in favor of hearing some important news.

News that Madara was not supposed to be sharing with anyone. He should probably warn them all to keep their mouths shut.

Surprisingly, Hashirama listened to the story with a lot more calm than any of them expected. Sometimes Madara forgot that underneath the smiling carefree personality he preferred to show his friends was the serious heart of the warrior who had been dubbed the God of Shinobi even at such a young age. His reaction to the potential threat of Tajima starting a civil war in the small haven of peaceful living they had only created a few months before was to sit back with a serious face so rarely seen off of the battlefield and hum in thought.

“I will not let him hurt anyone.” The finality of his voice left no room for doubt. If Hashirama said he would not allow it then it would not happen.

“He’s already tried direct confrontation with your father,” Madara pointed out. “I’m not so sure that he’ll try to outright hurt anyone. He’s intelligent when he wants to be and his frontal assault has already failed; it’s more likely he’ll try for something sneakier.”

“Like what, though?” Tobirama asked.

Madara shifted in his seat so that his thigh pressed against his husband’s under the table. “I can’t say. Knowing him it will be quiet, underhanded, and it will be something meant to make him look good while making Butsuma look bad.”

He could see Touka eyeing him again but ignored her. If she didn’t find his answers pleasing enough she was welcome to go ask Tajima for herself.

“You’re the head of security,” Tobirama pointed out, the change in topic sudden enough that it nearly gave him whiplash. He turned to look at his husband with a frown, trying to piece together what he might be getting at, but eventually had to give in and ask.

“I am. And?”

“Do you have any teams with enough skill to look in to him without being noticed? How closely does your father follow the schedules you post? If you added a few extra patrols here and there, especially around the tower or, say, along whatever paths he typically travels during the day, would he even notice?” Leaning forward, Tobirama rapped his fingers along the table’s surface. “I’m just wondering if we could maybe catch wind of whatever he’s planning before he sets it in motion. Or with at least enough time to move in counter.”

“That’s a good idea, actually. Patrol schedules were one of my duties back in the old compound as well so I don’t think he’s ever bothered to do more than glance over the ones I hand in to him now – if that. He trusts that I know what I’m doing. If I add an extra team or two a few days a week he won’t notice.”

Touka sat forward as well. “I could follow him.”

“No.” Madara shook his head. “That part I don’t agree with. I trust your skills but all it takes is one slip up or a bit of extra vigilance on his part and I will not be part of losing someone so important to my husband.” Because when it came to threats against himself Madara had no doubt his father would act with deadly force and explain away his actions when the dust had settled. Against others he would have no mercy.

“Yeah. I’m sure you’re real worried about my safety.” Still, Touka was looking at him a little differently even as she spoke and Tobirama was openly staring, speechless.

Hashirama felt no need to hide the tears in his eyes as he reached across the table with both hands. “Oh Madara, you’re such a good friend and a good man! I knew the two of you would be so great for each other if you just gave it a little time! Come here, come let me hug you!”

“No, get off!” Madara scraped his chair backwards along the kitchen tile to escape.

“Oh come on, just one hug!” Hashirama pouted and reached farther. “I bet you let Tobi hug you!”

“That doesn’t mean I want you to get your paws all over me! Where is your wife? Tell her to come control her man-child!”

He should have known that inevitably the veneer would drop back in to place and the silly Hashirama they all saw day to day would show himself again. It was like the man was allergic to being serious unless absolutely necessary. Reluctantly sacrificing the warm feeling of having his thigh pressed up against Tobirama’s without the other pulling away, Madara stood from his chair to take himself out of Hashirama's reach and crossed his arms with a stern expression. He was not moved when his friend pouted in return.

“I guess there’s really nothing more to say on the situation?” Touka said after clearing her throat.

“Oh there’s always much to say,” Tobirama corrected her. “Unfortunately it seems as though most of it would be speculation from here on out. From this point all we can do is keep ourselves sharp and remember not to react too strongly if and when something does happen.”

“Exactly. That’s what he wants.” Even admitting it made Madara want to shake his head for his father’s dramatics.

“Right.” Touka slid down in her chair and tapped one jagged fingernail against her chin. “What he wants is a big reaction in his favor. He wants everyone irrational because high emotions would make them easier to manipulate in to seeing things the way he wants us to.”

Madara pinched the bridge of his nose. He really hated the sneaky part of being a shinobi. It would be so much better if all disagreements could be settled by tossing each other around a training field for a while and shouting aimlessly. Short, to the point, and since he was stronger than most that meant he would win most fights. A perfect world, really.

His vision of a perfect world may have had some slight dictator undertones but he’d never claimed he himself was anything close to perfect.

“We’re done here, I guess. I’ll get out of the way of your little family reunion and…I don’t know. Do some paperwork I guess. Are any of us supposed to be working right now? It feels weird that we all have the day off.” Madara looked around the room to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes.

“A gift from my father,” Hashirama said. “When a returning shinobi had been injured as our brothers were he’s learned that it’s better to give their families the day off rather than risk their distraction at work. Distraction leads to mistakes. And he says it builds loyalty from the families to be seen as caring.” He twisted his mouth to one side, clearly agreeing with the result but taking no pleasure from the reasons behind them. Butsuma was a clever man too it seemed.

That solved one of the many mysteries chasing themselves around his head, at least. Madara nodded to himself. “Alright. Well. Then back home for me I suppose. Have fun with...whatever assholery you Senju get up to when you’re all together.”

“I believe you will find”-Tobirama delicately extricated himself from his chair and brushed imaginary dust from his front-“that I represent an entirely different clan now. If home is your destination I should like to go home as well. Hashirama, Touka, I’ll see you both tomorrow I expect.” With a serene expression he turned and headed for the front door, turning his back to Hashirama for the first time since entering the home.

As he obviously intended, the effect was immediate. The moment Hashirama caught sight of the uchiwa fan between his brother’s shoulder blades there were fat tears dripping down his cheeks so fast Madara wondered if he really could cry at will. Only the idiot’s tear-blurred vision stopped him from catching up as Madara bolted out of the room and hurried after his husband, pulling Tobirama along to hustle them both out of the house without an ounce of regret for leaving Touka to deal with that mess on her own. Hashirama was her relative after all. She must be better equipped than him to handle such situations.

Once they were outside he felt a little bit less worried by the possibility of unwanted hugs from an overgrown tree. There was only one tree around Konoha allowed to get their arms around him and that man was walking at his side with his jaw clenched tight and his eyes off in the opposite direction as he tried not to laugh out loud.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Madara insisted unsure why he felt the need to point it out.

“No, perish the thought.”

“It’s just not his business to touch me or anything.”

“Understandable.”

Madara scowled. “You’re making fun of me.”

“Yes, I am.” The tips of his ears were turning red with suppressed laughter.

“Aren’t you supposed to take my side?”

“On the contrary; having equal connection to you both, I believe I’m supposed to be the neutral party in any disputes.” It would be a lot easier to believe he meant it if he weren’t so determinedly avoiding looking over at Madara. Smarmy bastard. It was a distractingly adorable look on him.

Not really sure how to refute that, Madara chose to pout ostentatiously and turn his attention to the folks around them. A rush of pride he was unprepared for hit him with all the force of a punch in the gut when he noticed several people reacting to the blatant declaration stitched across the back of Tobirama’s clothing. With every head that he saw turning from the corner of his eye he had the strangest urge to shove his face in to theirs and shout because yes of _course_ Tobirama belonged to the Uchiha clan. Of _course_ he should have no shame in that. And of _course_ he should feel comfortable walking about in public with the uchiwa riding proudly on his clothing as was right and proper.

“Should I be worried about whatever is happening in your mind right now?” Tobirama asked, breaking in to his thoughts. “You have a very worrisome smile on your face.”

“I’m fine! Nothing is – what? No. I’m good.”

“That was an extraordinarily convincing act, please hold for my applause.”

Madara tried to give his husband a flat look but it had less effect when Tobirama was already giving him one in return. So instead he huffed and tossed his head. With as much hair as he was blessed with he’d always found that to be an effective move.

“Your student missed you,” was the first thing he could think of to change the subject.

Immediately he could tell he had Tobirama’s full attention. Madara preened and without needing any further prompting he launched in to a slightly exaggerated retelling of how Kagami had shown up looking for his sensei and ended up staying for dinner. With how close the two of them had grown in such a short amount of time it would not surprise him for word of Tobirama’s return to spread far enough for little ears to hear and come greet them on their way home.

Keeping his movements as subtle as possible, he angled his own path just a little to bring himself gradually closer to the man at his side as they walked and talked about the precious people in both of their lives. Madara sort of wished he could go back in time a handful of months and tell himself that all the negative feelings he had wallowed in since the signing of the treaty were simply a waste of time. In the end it seemed like maybe married life wasn’t so bad – as long as it was Tobirama by his side.


	20. Chapter 20

After all the worry that none of them could predict what Tajima’s next move would be there was a hilarious sort of irony in the way Madara exposed his first little plot entirely by accident – and without even picking up on the severity of what he’d uncovered. It didn’t seemed to have occurred to Tajima that his sons might be anything less than completely loyal to him in every way. The concept that Madara would pass on information to his husband should have been his first thought and it wasn’t clear if he was just that confident in his own authority or it this was nothing more than a fatal oversight.

Either way it played to the benefit of the village as a whole so none of them saw fit to complain when they eventually realized what happened. Well, none but Tajima but he was the grumpy sort of man who seemed to look for things to complain about no matter the situation.

Spending their lunch hour together by taking a walk through one of the newly built districts, still empty and awaiting new residents, Madara didn’t think much about bringing up the meeting he’d had with his father the day before. Two weeks had passed since Tobirama and Izuna returned from their mission and the initial panic of waiting for some big show down between their two founders had faded a little. He didn’t see anything very out of the ordinary in Tajima’s new squad of elite soldiers when it came up during one of his daily reports. Tobirama, on the other hand, seemed quite interested in them.

“What about their training is special?” was his first question. A little distracted with the way their arms were wound around each other, Madara answered in a distracted sort of voice.

“They’ve all been personally handpicked from our most elite fighters and I believe he’s working with them to further train their stealth capabilities. From what I understand the idea is to have a small squad of soldiers who are able to disappear in any environment, more so than a regular shinobi is expected to be capable of.” At the moment he cared more about the way his companion had to carefully measure each step to make his strides just a little shorter, ensuring they stayed together.

“I see.” Tobirama hummed thoughtfully. “That’s actually an excellent idea. Imagine all the missions that could be completed more easily with such a highly trained squad of specialists. And there are only Uchiha in that group right now?”

“Yeah, just a handful of distant cousins.”

“What if we added a few Yamanaka and Inuzuka? Some Hyuga as well, definitely a good sprinkling of Nara, even some of the Aburame would be great additions. Instead of a small squad we could have a whole division, give them special training in different areas and have them guard the village’s most important figures when they’re not out on assignments. Yes, I like this idea.” Tobirama grinned in a vicious sort of way. “We could do a lot of building on this idea.”

Madara forced himself to look away from that enticing expression. “Feel free to run with it. I’m not sure what his end goal was for this little group but I’m sure it’s in good hands with you. He’s proud but he’d never turned away an idea that would benefit him, although he usually finds a way to say the idea was his in the first place.”

“Very interesting indeed. I’ll bring this up during the next high council meeting and we can all discuss how many should be taken from each of the clans. They’ll all want to be represented of course.” Tobirama’s gaze was starting to take on a faraway quality that said he was rapidly getting lost inside his own head and Madara responded to that distraction almost without thought, bringing attention back to himself like a needy child.

“There’s still half an hour left of our lunch, should we head back towards the market and grab something sweet?”

“What would poor Susumu say if she knew you were cheating on her with another bakery?” Tobirama’s lips quirked up and Madara had to remind himself to breathe properly. He was married to a public menace.

Puffing himself up, he waved the idea aside. “What sensei doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Now let’s go find something with blueberries so we can both enjoy it.”

Tobirama looked delighted that Madara had remembered his favorite fruit, mentioned in passing in a random conversation over dinner some time back, and that was all the encouragement he needed to insist on following through with the idea. Giving a gentle tug on their entwined limbs, he steered them back the way they had come and followed his nose to the first street vendor with something blueberry on prominent display. They had to separate so they could both use their hands for eating and Madara desperately hoped it did not show on his face how pleased he was when Tobirama was the one to entwine them again after they had both wiped off their sticky fingers.

Returning to work after such a delightful time together was boring but it had to be done. Madara walked his partner to the office he technically shared with other people, though he could still usually be found alone, then stumped back to his own office where he found Hashirama snacking on cookies.

“Who baked these ones? I think I would have noticed Tobirama baking at home.” He sniffed at the tin and immediately turned up his nose. Lemon and ginger.

“Mito made them for me. Want one?” Hashirama pushed them closer to the edge of his desk but Madara shook his head as he began to root through the pile of scrolls in his inbox without even sitting down.

“I’m full already. And I don’t want anything your wife made. Somehow she would know which cookie I’m going to take and poison just that one.”

Hashirama made offended noises that Madara easily ignored. It was no secret that his best friend’s wife had never taken much of a shine to him. It didn’t matter if he showed up for dinner with good or poor manners, she would still go through the entire evening with her gaze sharp and her commentary even sharper.

For the most part the second half of their day was quiet. Which was to say that Hashirama managed to interrupt his train of thought only every twenty minutes or so, allowing Madara to get an impressive amount of paperwork done before he felt two distinct chakra signatures making their way towards him from opposite directions. Both of them were very familiar and more than welcome though he hoped they weren’t both hoping to walk him home.

The first to arrive was Tobirama, face held in a neutral expression that did not manage to hide the warmth in his eyes when he was greeted with a smile from both his brother and his husband. Only a few seconds after him Izuna stepped in to the room and his face pulled down in to a look of mild disgust upon being faced with his self-proclaimed nemesis.

“Well. There goes my plans.” He nodded to the other two and turned on his heel to leave. Madara had only just opened his mouth to call something that probably would have come out with an attitude when Tobirama beat him to it.

“Yes and we’re all simply devastated to be excluded from them,” he murmured. Izuna spun back around to glare.

“As if I would ever invite you anywhere!”

“Were you or were you not about to invite yourself in to the home I also happen to live in?” Tobirama lifted one shapely brow and smirked when Izuna had no rebuttal for that. He did always enjoy being right. And Madara was of the opinion that he was both unbearable and unbearably attractive in his smug celebration every time.

Movement from Hashirama's desk distracted him for a few seconds as the man half stood from his seat and then abruptly sat back down, clearly making a conscious decision not to intervene, and when Madara looked back at the two in the doorway both of them were visibly making an effort to contain themselves with sidelong glances in his direction. As sad as it was that they didn’t get along it was nice to see them both keeping to their agreement not to make things more difficult than they needed to be.

To his surprise, it was Tobirama who demurred with both hands raised in mock surrender.

“I had the pleasure of his company for our entire lunch hour and I will see him again at home. Releasing him in to your questionable care for part of the evening won’t kill me.” Looking over his shoulder to where Hashirama was doing his best to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping, Tobirama gave an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose spending time with my own brother wouldn’t kill me either.”

“Aw, Tobi, that’s so sweet,” Hashirama drawled with a surprising amount of dry sarcasm.

“Yes, I thought so.”

“Don’t do me any favors,” Izuna snarled. “I don’t need handouts from you.” Over on his side of the room Madara very seriously contemplated smacking himself in the forehead with exasperation.

Luckily Tobirama seemed determined to walk away as the bigger man, refusing to rise to the bait. With a low nod as though deferring to Izuna’s decision he simply turned his head to look away and pretend his brother-in-law wasn’t there. Of course, Izuna had always been the type of person who almost went looking for things to be offended by so when he left he did so with narrowed eyes and vengeance waiting in the corners of his pursed lips. Hashirama looked wilted as he wandered after the younger man with no one to walk him home. They both knew he would cheer up the moment he saw his wife and remembered she was always there to walk with him.

Madara rubbed at the bridge of his nose. The fact that his precious people weren’t actively yelling at each other or hissing pointed insults like moody children was a great improvement and he was very satisfied with that. He really was. But that didn’t mean he had no room in him to wish that both of them could work a little harder to improve faster.

Still, having the chance to walk home at Tobirama’s side was an opportunity he would always be happy to snatch up when it was on offer. The more time they spent together the more he was coming to very much enjoy the odd sensation of butterflies in his stomach whenever he had the pleasure to be the focus of Tobirama’s attention. When he was younger he could remember the horrifically embarrassing talks Susumu-sensei had with him about the birds and the bees, what it would feel like when he wanted those things. But more importantly he could remember the rare softness in her tone when she spoke of what it would feel like to want nothing more than to hold someone’s hands and have them close.

Walking at Tobirama’s side as they made their way out of the office and down through the tower, he realized that was exactly what he felt like. He wanted to know what it was like to hold Tobirama’s hand, to be close to him and stay close to him without feeling self-conscious or worrying about whether he should hold himself back, push forward, whatever flavor of anxiety happened to hit him at any given time.

They were halfway home when he decided that if Tobirama could be bold enough to admit in front of other people that his company was a pleasure then he could be bold too.

Slipping his fingers in between Tobirama’s without making a big deal of it was an act of extreme precision and also one of the scariest things he had ever done – including the time he had accidentally consumed psychedelic fruit and thought the entire room was trying to eat him somehow. He waited until his husband was in the middle of a sentence and his eyes got caught on something in the opposite direction before making a move, reaching between them and weaving their hands together, telling himself firmly that it wasn’t that big of a deal. They had only just been walking around these streets with their arms entwined earlier; fingers shouldn’t have been any different. 

His cheeks burned when Tobirama’s sentence faltered and he worried the tips of his ears might start smoking from the sheer heat coming off of them but then Tobirama picked up the thread where he had allowed his words to fall apart and it was all so natural suddenly. So very normal. Of course they should hold hands as they walked home. They were married and married couples held hands sometimes, even if he was only just now remembering Tobirama’s preference to keep public displays like this to a tasteful minimum. That meant he only blushed all the more to not be pushed away.

When they got home they did have to let go of each other so they could set down the things they had brought home from the office and putter around the kitchen to decide what they should have for dinner but the atmosphere in their home felt just a little bit different from how it normally was. The mood between them felt more intimate somehow and he had the distinct impression that if he asked for a hug as he’d been dying to do since the night Tobirama returned from his mission that he would receive one without question. With a smile even. There was an odd sort of power in knowing that such intimacies might be available to him simply by requesting them.

Dinner was filled with good-natured bickering that kept them in high spirits, both with one hand on the table through the meal though neither of them moved to hold the other again. By the time he rose to bring his dishes to the sink Madara was feeling almost jittery. He’d never felt like this around anyone else so he wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do with all these bubbles inside him but since he had decided not to be a coward about things he figured it was best to just go with the flow and do what felt natural.

So of course that was when he turned around and found Tobirama only a few inches away with plate in hand, obviously come to clean up his own mess. Both of them froze to find their faces so close. Madara noted absently that having to tilt his chin up to meet Tobirama’s eyes wasn’t nearly as aggravating as he’d been expecting. Instead of thinking about how much shorter he was he found his mind focusing on how much taller Tobirama was and it was an oddly comforting difference.

“Apologies,” his husband murmured. “I didn’t mean to invade your space.” Despite his words he made no move to step back, eyes darting around Madara's face as though searching for something.

“No, you’re fine. This is…fine.” Madara cleared his throat but refused to look away.

Carefully leaning to the left, Tobirama set his dishes down on the counter and then let his arms hang down at both sides without stepping away. The space between them was thick with a loaded silence and unspoken words as both of them stared at each other and slowly inched forwards.

While he had no idea what his face might be doing, Madara's inner thoughts were screaming nonsensical noises and mixed half sentences, most of which would probably have better suited a preteen with their first crush because he couldn’t help telling himself that this was it. This was the moment. Tobirama’s face was so close to his own and getting closer; they were going to kiss. For a moment he panicked because he had no idea how kissing worked beyond smashing two faces together.

And then panic didn’t matter as they both startled apart by a disgusted scoff from the doorway. When they both whipped around to look they found Izuna standing there with his arms crossed and his entire face pinched.

“I know I said I would spend time with my brother on my own terms but you don’t need to put on such a gross display just because I decided to come over. You won’t chase me off twice in one day so don’t bother trying.” He huffed and let his weight drop down on to one hip for an extra pop of attitude.

“We didn’t know you were coming!” Madara protested, already mourning the loss as Tobirama stepped away.

“Bull, you’re both sensors. Highly skilled ones, at that.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t get distracted!”

He only realized his mistake when Izuna started pretending to gag and Tobirama turned away to clear his throat uncomfortably. Before their guest could recover Tobirama started for the doorway and pushed past him. “I suppose I’ll be spending some time with my own brother after all then.”

Without waiting for a response he was gone and Madara was left to glare at his sibling irritably. In return he got an equally bitchy look which honestly should not have surprised him but the idiot had always known how to press his buttons a little too well. Aiming one last scoff after Tobirama’s retreating form, Izuna invited himself in to the room and slumped down in the closest chair.

“Aren’t you happy to see me Aniki?” he taunted.

“You couldn’t have knocked on the front door like a normal person?” Stealing a glance of his own towards the door, Madara sighed. “Or maybe just waited five more minutes?” He looked back when Izuna scoffed.

“Look, I’m not even sorry I interrupted. What? Don’t look at me like that either. Just because I said I would try not to fight with him as much doesn’t mean I’m magically okay with this. I still hate him. He’s still not good enough for you.” He shrugged, entirely unconcerned with how his words might be taken.

Madara tried to hold it in but it didn’t last long. “It’s not your business to be okay with it! This is my marriage, not yours, so get your nose out of it!”

“I’m just looking out for you!” Izuna tilted his chair back on to two legs with a pitying look. “We both know how this is going to end so if it’s not going to work out anyway then why bother–”

“Well maybe I want it to work out!”

The sound of Izuna’s chair slamming back down on to four legs echoed loudly in the otherwise silent kitchen but Madara refused to flinch. He raised his chin instead, all but daring the other to say something, to refute him in some way. Growing up together had taught him that Izuna always had something to say but for the same reasons the idiot should know that Madara was not the sort to be swayed by uninvited temper tantrums.

He could definitely see one brewing though as his brother struggled to comprehend the idea that he might not still be looking forward to the day five years had passed and he became eligible by Senju traditions to seek a divorce. The very idea that he might decide to stay married did not appear to compute.

“Are you insane?” Izuna demanded.

“No! It’s my choice! Forgive me if I don’t think about your preferences when I consider what’s best for my own future!”

“This isn’t best! He’s a cold-hearted monster who only married you because his daddy said so! He doesn’t care about you, Aniki!”

Madara gripped the back of the chair in front of him until his knuckles turned white. “You don’t know anything about him. The Senju clan don’t like to show their emotions in front of people they don’t trust but that doesn’t mean they don’t have any! I think he does care about me!”

“He doesn’t love you, that’s for sure.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Neither do you!”

“Fuck you, Izuna!” In a fit of anger Madara threw the chair in his grip, sending it crashing in to the counter and splintering one of the legs off, but he had eyes only for the fool in front of him. “Get out of my house. Get out of my sight before one of us says something we’re going to regret – and believe me you will regret saying anything else you have hidden in that nasty little brain of yours. What I do with my time and who I spend it with is none of your concern and I am utterly sick of hearing you say the same things over and over again. I am sick of being angry at you for this. Just go.”

A second chair was almost broken when Izuna stood up and kicked it away from himself. “If I remember correctly you didn’t want this marriage from the start. Now he’s brainwashing you like a good little daddy’s boy – and worse than that, he’s turning you against me!”

“You’re doing that yourself,” Madara spat. “Are you so determined to get your way that you can’t let me be happy?”

Facing each other across the table as they were gave him a perfect view of the way Izuna’s expression shuttered and his anger faltered, stunned in to silence by his brother’s words. It took a few moments for Madara to see through his anger and understand what could have hit the other so hard. He knew his brother as well as Izuna knew him in turn just as he’d been thinking earlier. They both knew exactly what points to pressure and all the weakest spots to strike. Izuna might be a selfish brat when it came to the rest of the world but he worshipped his older brother and underneath the snarky attitude he wanted nothing more than for Madara to be happy.

And Madara was sure that in the back of his mind he had worked it out somehow to assure himself he was only doing what he needed to for Madara to be happy in the end, that the ends would justify the means when all was said and done. Up until now he almost certainly saw himself as the only one really looking out for who he saw as the victim in this situation. Being told now that he was actually a source of hurt instead of help would be difficult for a mind like his to comprehend.

“Well I was only trying to–”

“I really don’t care what you were trying to do,” Madara interrupted him again. “Maybe I would care about your intentions if you had listened to me when I told you my feelings on the matter had changed but you didn’t. You never want to listen. So just…go.”

To his surprise Izuna did leave. What did not surprise him was the dark anger that clouded the younger man’s face as he stomped back out of the house. This was clearly not the end of the conversation nor the last time they would talk about this. With the slamming of a door Madara found himself alone in a messy kitchen, his mood ruined after enjoying such a pleasant day. It would have been nice to spend time with his brother if only Izuna hadn’t been so determined in his belligerent attitude today. Now he had the rest of his night to spend alone without anyone to keep him company or help him get back to the contentment he had very much been enjoying right up until a hurricane arrived to rain on his parade.

Looking around at the mess they had made, he sighed. At least he had something to do to fill his time for the next couple of hours; kami only knew when Tobirama would come home so he might as well get started.


	21. Chapter 21

It would be an understatement to say that Tobirama was in a bad mood after he left home that evening. One moment it felt as though his entire life was finally falling in to place and the next there was Izuna with his stupid face and his stupid attitude getting in the stupid way. He was already steaming when he made it to Hashirama's house. Seeing his brother with both lips wrapped around the top of a bottle of nihinshu, pouring it straight back down his throat like an animal with not a single dish in sight, did nothing to improve that.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Tobirama demanded. “Where is your wife?”

“She’s gone over to enjoy some lady time with Touka.” Hashirama grinned sheepishly and hurried to put the bottle down, probably hoping he wouldn’t get yelled at for having such poor manners.

Tobirama considered it. On a normal day he would have immediately started in on a lecture about how to properly enjoy one’s nihinshu, possibly started another lecture on why they both knew Hashirama should not having been guzzling away at that bottle so quickly. This was not a normal day, however, and he was not in a very normal kind of mood.

“Pour me a glass.”

Hashirama paused to study his face. Then he was leaping off the couch and hustling through the kitchen to fetch a pair of dishes.

Very quickly they were both flopped on opposite ends of the same spacious couch they had grown up on with glasses of alcohol in their hands and two bottles balanced on a small tray between them. One might think that Hashirama's bouncy personality would make this a terrible idea but alcohol actually had quite a mellowing effect on him. It was the easiest way to tell he was backsliding in to the bottles again.

Really Tobirama shouldn’t be encouraging him by partaking in such a bad habit but with Mito around he trusted that his brother had few enough opportunities to indulge that it wasn’t likely to become a habit again in the way it once had. One evening of letting them both have a bit of leeway wouldn’t kill anyone. And if it came with the added benefit of getting his mind off things and helping him calm down enough that he no longer felt like marching back home to strangle Izuna with his own bare hands, well, that was exactly what he needed.

“I thought you seemed like you were having a really good day earlier,” Hashirama noted hesitantly after they were both a few cups in.

“Yes, I was. And then my brother-in-law happened.”

“Ah. Yeah. Both of Mito’s sisters make me feel the same way.” He nodded and raised a glass in solidarity and then tossed the whole thing back in one go.

Draining his own and immediately reaching for a refill, Tobirama grunted. “Well at least you don’t live in the same city as your extended family. I live down the street from Izuna. And for that matter close to Tajima as well. Do you know how glad I am that neither of them are more interested in coming over for family dinners?”

He was almost glad to see his brother shiver in solidarity.

What he was not glad to see was the bottom of his bottle only a half hour later. Tingles had already taken over most of his body but that wasn’t nearly as drunk as he would have preferred to be at the moment and the more he drank the more he found he wanted. For the first time in his life he was glad of Hashirama's habit for excess.

“I know!” his brother announced without moving from the corner he’d wedged himself in to. “We could go downtown! Mito always says it’s not a good idea for me to go look at any of the bars that have opened in the marketplace but it’s fine with you there, right? It’s fine!”

“Of course. Yeah. I’ll keep you in line.” Tobirama nodded very seriously to himself, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that noted he himself probably couldn’t walk a straight line at the moment.

“Fun! Let’s go!”

“You haven’t moved, Anija.”

“Oh I’m sure I’ll get there eventually.”

He had to pull Hashirama of the couch and find both of their shoes but eventually they did make it out the front door. Neither of them had ever visited any of the drinking establishments Konoha had to offer so it was a bit of a struggle trying to find them once they finally made it in to the market district but the first one they spotted had bright lights to draw them in and a pretty young girl at the counter to draw Hashirama's attention while Tobirama ordered a round of drinks.

Which was, of course, a challenge all on its own. His vision had never been the absolute best and so much alcohol had made it even fuzzier so he wasn’t entirely sure he was reading the prices right on the sign behind the bartender. A quick glance around the establishment showed most people drinking from what seemed to be beer bottles but he himself had only ever partaken in rice or plum wines.

In the end he just asked for whatever the person next to him was having and handed over enough coins to leave a tip as well.

“Should we try to find a table?” he murmured but Hashirama shook his head.

“Here is fine!” With that his sibling plonked down on one of the stools right up against the bar itself.

Tobirama supposed that did make it more efficient for when they needed a refill so he balanced himself on the next stool and took a tentative sip of whatever drink he’d been handed. It wasn’t as bad as he’d always imagined; still nowhere near as good as the nihinshu they’d drained before, though.

While the night hour deepened outside their establishment the two brothers made a point of testing different drinks with every new round they bought and Tobirama was introduced to the more social aspects of drinking in public places. After the few couple of rounds Hashirama looked like he was melting over the bar top but Tobirama found himself engaged in deep conversation with people he’d never met before in his life.

One in particular it turned out he did know, though it took a while to remember. He hadn’t seen his cousin in so long he’d almost forgotten her face but after she pointed out the connection he allowed one hug for the sake of reunited family. Her name brought up memories of braided hair and freckles disappearing for undercover work and he supposed that was probably why he hadn’t seen her for so long. Indeed, when he asked she told him she had been quite surprised to head for home after so many years only to find her home completely empty. Up until then she hadn’t given any credence to the rumors of a new village built between the Senju and the Uchiha. After all, the clans lived too far apart for any sort of bad blood to exist between them and she hadn’t thought Butsuma smart enough to see the advantage in securing such a powerful ally so far away.

The two of them were well and truly distracted by their catching up, Hashirama pitching in when he could be bothered to lift his head up from the bar, so wrapped up in their own little world that Tobirama paid little attention to the rest of the room when normally he would be keeping track of every chakra signature present. Which is how he missed Izuna until the slam of a glass bottle against wood rang out just loudly enough to pull his attention and he looked over to find the one he least wanted to see pushing himself up from an otherwise empty booth and storming away with tense body language.

Or at least Tobirama thought he looked tense. It was possible he could be seeing things. Even Izuna himself might have been a hallucination brought on by drink or it could just be a random Uchiha that his muddled brain had decided to project upon. Tobirama squinted at the man’s back as it disappeared out the door and told himself it was fine. No need to worry. It would have to be quite a coincidence for Izuna to crop up so many times in one day, especially after he’d said he would go away only to turn up in their home barely more than an hour later.

He turned back to the cousin he hadn’t seen in years and offered her a sloppy smile.

“I got married!” he said.

“So I hear.” She leaned forward with a smile of her own. “Tell me everything about him.”

Nothing could have made him happier. With alcohol loosening his tongue Tobirama opened his mouth and let the praises flow like a river, happy as a pig in mud to do nothing but wax poetic on his husband. Madara had a lot of good qualities that he knew most people never took the time to see. What sort of partner would he be if he missed such a golden opportunity to spread the good word?

Apparently Hashirama approved of him playing the good husband as well because it only took one more round of drinks for him to start sobbing over how happy he was for both of them and how good they were for each other. It was easy to ignore. Tobirama had grown up being attacked with random bursts of crying so he didn’t think much of the boorish display but he did notice several long glances from the bartender, reluctance clear on his face when he was asked to bring them another round. Clearly their fun had come to an end.

Tobirama’s coin purse was worryingly lighter when he paid up the last of their tab for the night but he was honestly more worried about how he was going to get Hashirama back home while he could barely keep himself upright. He was more grateful than he currently had the capacity to express when their cousin stepped in and volunteered to guide the drunken fool, laughing easily at her surprise that he intended to walk in the opposite direction. Apparently she assumed that even marriage would not separate him from his brother’s side. Little that she knew.

Cool night air and very few people on the streets to witness his drunken stumble helped keep up the good mood that had finally repaired itself as Tobirama made his way home alone. When he reached the top of their street he could feel Madara's chakra boiling away inside their home but in such a muddled state it didn’t occur to him as a bad thing. He was happy to feel Madara close and that was about as far ahead as he was thinking at the moment. There was even a dopey sort of smile on his face as he fumbled to open the door and spilled in to the front hallway, barely remembering to peel off his sandals before continuing in to the living room where he found his husband.

It looked like Madara had been pacing circles for quite some time when Tobirama came in to the room but he stopped as soon as he heard the door snap shut, whipping his head around to narrow both eyes while Tobirama waved at him inanely.

“And just where have you been?” he asked. It felt like a trick question somehow.

“With Hashirama.” Tobirama cocked his head to one side. “Like I said I’d be.”

“You said you would be spending the evening with him, yes. There was no mention of going out trolling for company in seedy bars!”

Madara huffed and stomped another circle but stopped when his path brought him right up in front of Tobirama, who stood blinking in confusion. He couldn’t remember sending word ahead when their plans had changed but perhaps it had slipped his mind somewhere between the drinks. It must have if Madara already knew about their adventures.

“I like your company,” he announced, proud of himself for stating how he felt so clearly and then sad to see the other man frown in response.

“Really, now? From what I hear you enjoy the company of strange women!”

“I – what?”

“He saw you! Izuna saw you in that bar! Flirting with random women with Hashirama right there at your side doing nothing to stop it!”

Tobirama squinted as he tried to determine how he felt. Apparently he had not been hallucinating Izuna’s presence and _apparently_ the idiot had run straight home to carry tales of what he thought he’d seen. Even well past his own tolerance limits it wasn’t hard for Tobirama to figure out where the miscommunication had happened and why Izuna had come tattling stories of a wrong he hadn’t committed. What made him decide that he was angry was how easily Madara seemed to have believed such things.

And here he thought they had gotten to the point where they could trust each other, where they knew each other a little better than for Madara to believe him capable of that.

“I’m going to sleep,” he murmured, not wanting to deal with this.

“No, you’re going to stay here and explain what the hell you were thinking!”

“What I was _thinking_ was that I hadn’t seen my cousin in nearly a decade and it was a pleasant surprise to see her again! I was _thinking_ it was nice to come home to a husband who might have started believing I wasn’t a monster!” Tobirama scowled deeply to hide the hurt. “Evidently I was wrong about that last one. I really don’t know what I have to do to convince you I have no ill intentions.”

Madara blinked at him with wide eyes. “Your…cousin?”

“Yes. My cousin. For whom I could not possibly hold any attraction, what with my preference for men.” He tried to raise both eyebrows pointedly but couldn’t tell if the expression actually formed since his face had gone numb, an interesting effect he’d never experienced before.

“Well how was I supposed to know that?” Madara blustered.

“Call me crazy but you could try getting both sides of the story first before flying off the handle.”

“Hey! I didn’t believe him when he said he saw you flirting with a woman! But then he said you were hugging her – you never hug anyone! And certainly not in public!” Crossing his arms, he huffed and nodded once to make his point.

Which was a good point, Tobirama could admit that. It was slightly mollifying that Madara had arrived at his conclusion using at least some kind of logic. But it was still the wrong conclusion.

“You still should have waited to hear my side first! He saw me in a _bar_. Obviously we were _drinking_. So it follows that my behavior will be slightly _off_!” The first clue for which should have been his unsteady gait and this new habit of emphasizing so many words in his speech.

“Fine!” Madara shouted. “Next time I’ll ask!” He somehow managed to sound both angry and glad to make his concession.

“Good then. Do that. I don’t see why _you’re_ still angry.” Tobirama sniffed. He was the one who had been insulted here. What right did Madara have to keep huffing and puffing?

Squirming in place, his husband looked away for a moment. When he looked back he jerked his chin up in to the air with a familiar stubborn jut. “Well excuse me for feeling a little betrayed when I thought the man I married was cheating on me. Maybe I should have waited like you said but we both know I have a temper! Izuna told me what he saw and I reacted!”

Tobirama snorted but said nothing because there was nothing to say. He did know that Madara had a temper, they both did in their own ways, and once it was pointed out like that he could understand why he had found the man in such a state. And he supposed he could appreciate the fact that Madara hadn’t immediately stormed out of the house to come confront him. Neither of them would have come away from that encounter unscathed and only kami knew what sort of complication a drunken Hashirama could have added in to the mix.

“I guess I’ll just take the couch for tonight then,” Tobirama murmured, taking his turn to look away. If they laid down in the same bed he was certain Madara would tense up in the same way he used to and just imagining the sight of it was heartbreaking. Better to spend the night apart and let the man cool off.

“You don’t have to,” Madara grunted.

“It’s fine. Maybe it’s best.”

“Says who?”

Tobirama closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Stop being difficult and just – it’s late. Go to bed.”

“No. It’s your bed too, no one said you had to start sleeping on the couch again!”

“And no one said it was permanent either!” Bringing their gazes back together, Tobirama noted that they were mirroring each other’s stubborn expressions perfectly. “I’m trying to be respectful! Something you could learn from!”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say. Madara puffed up so large his hair seemed to physically bristle with offense.

“I can be respectful!”

“Sure. Of course. You _never_ just think about what _you_ want!”

“Oh you want me to just take what I want? Well fine!”

When Madara came towards him suddenly Tobirama had but a split second to note that alcohol really does impair one’s reaction time, stopping him from raising any sort of defense against the blow he thought was surely coming for his face.

Instead he found fingers in the collar of his shirt and lips pressed insistently against his own, messy and off-center. He registered the fact that they were kissing at around the same time he registered that Madara had probably never kissed anyone before in his life – barring the day they were married, of course. If he had he would have done something other than stand perfectly still with his lips pursed and his heart beating so heavily Tobirama could feel the pulse of it thundering when he wrapped a hand around one of the man’s wrists.

He could have pulled away and gotten angry for having his person assaulted like this right in the middle of an argument, something he knew he would have done if he were sober and clinging stubbornly to his own temper, but the drink in his veins did a perfect job of smoothing the transition between anger and a pleasant sort of triumph. This was exactly what he had been so upset about being denied earlier. Why shouldn’t he enjoy it?

The shift of Madara's stance away from him made him realize that he had been standing there for too long not reacting in any way other than to take hold of one wrist in what could be considered a forbidding grip, definitely not the impression he wanted to give. Before his partner could pull away entirely Tobirama took a step forward himself, taking control of Madara's lips and tilted his own head to show the man what a proper kiss should be like. His eyes rolled behind closed lids when he heard a helpless moan that had probably escaped by accident.

Loosening the fingers he’d brought up in defensive instinct, he reached down instead with both hands to frame Madara's hips, bringing their bodies together at the same time as he took another step forward to drive the man back in to whatever surface happened to be there. Probably a wall, possibly a bookcase. Whatever it was mattered little compared to the way his husband melted against him with another delicious sound and tightened the grip on his collar in what he could guess was approval.

When they separated several minutes later they were both flushed and short of breath, staring at each other with open wonder and neither making any move to pull away farther than the space needed for their gazes to meet. Tobirama licked his lips, tasting something new that he thought he might be instantly addicted to, and wondered what to say. He was grateful when Madara broke the silence first.

“You taste like beer. Wouldn’t have taken you for a beer drinker.”

“Will you do that again when I’m sober?” Tobirama blurted. His partner blinked at him and he shuffled his weight anxiously. “I am not convinced this isn’t some kind of alcohol-driven hallucination.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, we can do this again when you’re sober. I would hope we do this, er, many times. In the future. Going forward?” Madara scrunched his face up in the way that said he was irritated with the choppy sentences coming out of his mouth and if Tobirama had an ounce less self-control he would have kissed the man again just for that.

“Good, good. I think I should sleep now.”

Madara helped him up the stairs, both hands hovering near his person to push him back upright whenever he overbalanced in a random direction. He managed to change and brush his teeth by himself but the moment he spread himself out across the bed to wait for Madara to do those same tasks it was like all the alcohol he’d consumed pounced on him all at once. When his husband came back in to the room he was spread out on his back with both hands clutched in the sheets, glaring at the ceiling as best he could with drooping eyelids.

“Doing okay?”

“The room is spinning,” Tobirama informed him matter-of-factly. “I don’t like it.”

“Drinking does that to you.” Madara nodded sagely and Tobirama concluded that he must have experienced this a time or two before. How anyone could enjoy this sensation was beyond him. He felt as though he might fly off the edge of the earth any moment and all he wanted was for something to help him stay in place.

Which, he realized through the fog, he could have. Madara blinked when he unclenched one hand to reach out across the bed.

“Come here. Please. If you don’t hold me down I’m going to float away or something.”

“Of course you will.” Madara was laughing at him but Tobirama let it go just this once since he was getting what he wanted anyway and that was clearly more important at the moment.

Slipping under the covers, Madara scooted across the mattress until he was flush up against Tobirama the way they had come to enjoy sleeping back to front, only this time he paused for a brief second to consider the change in position before laying his head down on the chest before him and curling in to Tobirama with his entire body. One hand he curled between them and the other he gently rested on the ribs just below his head. For a few moments his body retained a great deal of tension as he supposedly debated with himself whether or not he liked this new arrangement but then he relaxed all at once, daring even to shift one leg forward to hook his ankle over the one closest to him.

“There,” he murmured. “Is that good?”

“Yeah. That’s good.” Tobirama curled the arm Madara had crawled in to and brought his other around so he could hold his husband close, forcing himself to close his eyes by pressing his face in to the thick mass of hair spilling across his shoulder. “You smell good.”

“Do I?”

Tobirama hummed pleasantly and took another deep breath.

“S’nice. I like this.”

“Me too,” Madara admitted, his voice almost quiet enough to go unheard.

“Sleep now?”

“Wow, you are fading fast. Go to sleep. You’re going to hate your brother in the morning for feeding you so much alcohol and I do not promise not to laugh.”

Tobirama smiled and mindlessly nuzzled the pleasant smelling mass of softness in front of him, already forgetting what it was or where he had ended up but not caring one whit. He knew that Madara was there with him and that both of them were happy and that was all he needed. Whatever hiccups had interrupted them near the end, overall the day had been a good one and with Madara in his arms it was certainly ending on a high note as well.


	22. Chapter 22

Madara woke up feeling an odd mix of complete relaxation and anxious anticipation. It took a few minutes of lying in a little puddle of contentment for him to remember what he was anticipating but when he did both eyes sprang open to stare at the bedroom wall. His vision was slightly hampered by the entwined hands situated right in front of his face, pale on paler skin, and Madara wondered if he should be freaking out at the moment.

They had kissed. He thought most people would probably agree that the wedding didn’t count, a forced gesture required by ceremony and with no feeling behind it. But now for the first time they had kissed because they wanted to, because they chose to, and the moment was only slightly marred by the fact that Tobirama had been so drunk he nearly passed out before reaching the bed. Luckily he hadn’t and, lying here now, Madara was able to look back over the past few weeks and months and see little bits of evidence that Tobirama returned his interest, small things he had passed off at the time as a fluke or unremarkable.

Now here they were waking up together all cuddled up like a real couple and Madara almost killed himself choking back the laughter when he lifted his head to look down at the man he’d been sleeping on top of.

“I’m dying,” Tobirama whispered. If he spoke any louder Madara had the impression he thought his head might explode.

“Are you?”

“Why would anyone ever choose to put themselves through this? How does anyone deal with this?” His eyes were bloodshot, his white skin turned a sickly ashen pallor, and the sound of his voice was so rough it was barely recognizable.

Madara sort of resented that he still looked cute.

“They don’t,” he said, carefully shifting his weight so as not to disturb the hungover zombie in bed with him. “I think most drunks just start drinking all over again before the hangover can get too bad.”

“I would like all of them murdered very quietly.”

“Got a headache?”

“Headache. Stomach ache. Throat ache. Everything ache. Just kill me too while you’re at it.” Tobirama closed his eyes very slowly but Madara noted that his grip had not loosened even the smallest bit around the body in his arms.

This was not a man ready to get up and go to work, he thought. Another careful shift allowed him to bring his hands together and create a clone, which he sent off to the kitchen while he himself settled back down as though he intended to fall asleep again. It would have been nice to, if he were honest, getting to sleep in with his head on Tobirama’s chest – even if that chest did smell just a bit like beer still.

When the clone came back it laid a cool cloth across Tobirama’s forehead, earning a quiet moan of appreciation. Then it held up a tall glass of water with a straw in it.

“You don’t even have to sit up,” Madara teased gently.

Tobirama glared at the straw for a few moments, obviously weighing his pride against the pounding in his head. In the end Madara nodded for his clone to look away and closed his own eyes. Hangovers were never a very dignified experience and he wished there had been someone around to treat him gently for his first one instead of Izuna bombing in to the room to babble excitedly about a new jutsu he’d finally perfected. Being a petty man, he’d already taken his revenge for that incident only a few years afterwards when it was Izuna’s turn to learn the evils of drink, slamming in to his brother’s bedroom at the crack of dawn as though entirely oblivious to the whimpers asking him not to speak so loud.

He had, of course, spoken louder.

Only when he heard the straw slurping up the last of the water and Tobirama whining in protest of the sudden noises did Madara peek his eyes open to see the clone pulling the cup away. He waved for it to take the cup back downstairs where it should disappear.

“You’ll probably feel better if you go back to sleep,” he suggested.

“Probably. Just for a little bit though.” Breathing deeply in and letting in back out slowly, Tobirama turned his head to hide his face in the messy hair on his shoulder much as he had the night before. “Just…a little bit.”

Madara hummed low in his throat and tried not to laugh. It took several minutes of waiting but eventually the body under him went lax with sleep once more and the breathing against the top of his head evened out. Wriggling out of that iron grip took a bit of doing but he didn’t feel the need to be anywhere near as careful with his movements now. Tobirama wouldn’t wake again for another several hours at least.

After he made it up he did pause and take a minute just to stare down at the sprawled lump of a fool in the covers, face completely relaxed though still a little sickly looking, limbs all tucked in where they had been curled around each other fairly tightly. If not for the smell it might have looked like he’d caught a cold or something of the like and Madara had to turn and leave when he started imagining that pale nose all red from sniffling with droopy eyes looking up at him with glassy confusion. No deadly killing machine should be allowed to look so cute even if it was just in his own imagination.

Leaving seemed like the right thing to do. If he didn’t he was likely to crawl back in to bed and that would get absolutely nothing done so instead Madara forced himself to go for the closet to pick out some clothes and start his day.

Breakfast was quiet and strange, feeling Tobirama’s chakra upstairs yet still eating alone. It made him wonder if this was what it had felt like for his husband back in the beginning when Tobirama had been forcing himself in to sleep deprivation just so their paths would cross as little as possible. He put his dishes in the sink and left the house before he could think too deeply about how stupid they had both acted back then, letting the chilly morning weather empty his mind.

For most of the day he kept close tabs on Izuna’s chakra and the way it would drift close only to veer off again, running away like a coward instead of facing him. When he’d shown up the night before to tell on Tobirama for supposedly talking to some floozy in the bar he had done so with the attitude of someone vindicated after a great wrong against his person. Seeing Madara around today in a perfectly happy mood seemed to have thrown him off and it was obvious he understood by now that he might not have seen what he thought he saw.

Hashirama, on the other hand, was much more spry than any man who’d spent the night in a drunken stupor had any right to be. He greeted Madara with a brilliant smile and loud hellos that probably echoed through to the other side of the village. The start of their day was filled with an unholy amount of energy from him, bouncing out of his seat at a moment’s notice, interrupting every train of thought almost as soon as it had formed only to derail it in whatever direction the wind had blown his madness with each time.

“Why aren’t you spewing your guts all over the floor?” Madara demanded after a while.

“Huh? Oh! Tobi told you we had a few drinks, didn’t he? It’s no big deal, my metabolism is sort of off the charts because of my kekkei genkai so by the time I wake up I’m always fine!” The paper he pulled towards himself was one he’d tried to concentrate on several times already only to get distracted with a new thought and go off on some tangent again.

“That explains why your brother doesn’t know how to handle a hangover,” Madara grumbled under his breath. When Hashirama blinked at him he sighed. “You should really figure out how to share that _gift_ of yours around. Other people would appreciate waking up fine the next morning, I’m sure.”

After a round of blinking Hashirama shrugged. “Wanna go out for lunch? The café I went to with Mito last week serves these great little sandwiches.”

“No, I was planning to head home for lunch. Go on ahead without me. Take your wife or something.” Madara waved him off and checked the clock to see that it was indeed almost noon, just around the time a certain someone should be opening their eyes again. Perfect.

Although usually he enjoyed a leisurely stroll to wherever he was going on his lunch hour, today Madara slipped out the window and hopped across several roofs until he was past the village center where the hustle and bustle of midday crowds would have taken him three times as long to fight his way through. Slipping down at the edge of the residential areas left him with a much clearer path that he was free to wander along at his own pace and without fear he would accidentally terrify some old lady pushing past her with his habitual scowl.

The house was quiet when he entered, though that was hardly a surprise. Before anything else he took his time making a couple of sandwiches and enjoying one of them himself. When his belly was full he poured a cold glass of water and brought the drink along with the sandwich up the stairs and in to the bedroom where he set both of them of the side table on the far side of their bed.

Bleary eyes were watching him when he turned back to look down at the misshapen lump on top of the mattress.

“Mgguhh.”

“Good morning to you too. Or good afternoon, I should say. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Tobirama took a deep breath and closed his eyes to let it back out slowly. “Happy to report that I am no longer on the brink of death.”

“You never were,” Madara noted with amusement thick in his voice.

He got a hot glare for his troubles, though the effect was lost entirely when it came from under a thick quilt bunched up just below his chin. Such a sight was too much to resist. Not bothering to lift the blankets in case he didn’t have the willpower to crawl back out of them later, Madara slipped on to the bed and shifted across until he was stretched out on his side right up against Tobirama, propped up on one elbow while he lifted the other to feel his partner’s forehead.

“Temperature’s gone down. You don’t look like you’re going to bring up everything you ate yesterday. And that sandpaper voice is gone, thank the gods. Feel up to eating anything?” He nodded towards the sandwich he brought with him and Tobirama followed his gaze with a mild look of surprise.

“Is that for me?”

“Well I’m certainly not going to each lunch twice.” Taking his hand back, he patted his belly. “Not if I want to keep this _fantastic_ physique.”

Tobirama rolled his eyes but cracked a smile nonetheless and began the process of fighting his way out of the blankets to sit up. “What time is it?” he asked, pulling the plate over and lifting one eyebrow when Madara flopped down on to his back.

“A little past noon.”

“Should I not be at work today?” For such a high-strung man he seemed fairly calm at the prospect of not being where he was supposed to be.

Madara waved the question aside like he was swatting a fly. “I told people you were sick and left it at that, no one’s expecting you in until tomorrow ‘as long as he’s feeling better by then’. It’s like they care about you or something. Gross.”

“Actually I was thinking of the council meeting later today, which I will need to attend no matter what state I’m in. If I’m supposed to be out sick then I suppose I should do my best to look haggard and tired. Loose clothing, barely put together, that sort of thing. We wouldn’t want you to be made a liar.” He hummed and nibbled on the end of his sandwich, pausing to look at it a little more closely, peeling the slices of bread apart before shrugging as he apparently deemed it acceptable.

“Why Tobirama. Is that the sound of a rule being broken that I hear? And here I thought you didn’t know how to do anything except behave.” Madara snickered at his own joke until Tobirama’s face leaned over his own with a playful scowl.

“Be careful or I will show you all the ways I know how to not behave.”

“You have a crumb on your chin,” he helpfully informed his husband.

Huffing as though offended Tobirama sat up straight again, trying to be subtle about wiping the crumbs away. “I’m not entirely convinced that my head won’t explode when everyone starts arguing but I do think I should be there this afternoon. What time was it again? Two o’clock, yes?”

“Mm. Plenty of time if you wanted to take another nap first.”

“Speaking of time, how did you know when I would wake up again? The moment I opened my eyes you were right there with a glass of water.”

Humming, Madara rolled on to his side to affect the most innocent face he could, channeling as much of Kagami as he was capable. “Are you suggesting I somehow planned for you to wake up again only when I would be available to come check on you?”

Tobirama narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

“Your clone drugged my water this morning, didn’t he?”

“He absolutely did.”

“Breach of trust.”

“A favor, I would say.”

Squinted a little harder, he relented after a few moments. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked anyone for drugging me before but I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

Madara waited but no actual thanking happened. He considered a good swift kick as retaliation but the residual hangover was probably retribution enough no matter how bravely Tobirama was managing to hide the pain. After how sauced he’d been the night before it was a miracle that only two glasses of water and some extra sleep had him sitting up and chatting like everything was fine.

Both of them lounged on the bed until Tobirama had finished his sandwich and then Madara left the room so he could have privacy to change and tidy himself up a little. He wandered downstairs in to the office space they barely used and dug out some of the documents he remembered bringing home ages ago that might help him put together a report he’d been working on for several weeks. It took a few minutes to remember where the hell he’d shoved the damn things but by the time he spotted them on a nearby shelf and marched back out in to the living room Tobirama was only just coming down the stairs looking a little more like his usual put together self, though still a little rough around the edges.

With only a few minutes left of his hour lunch break Madara decided that both of them could bend a few rules today and opted for a leisurely walk back to the office with Tobirama at his side. Instead of napping for a little longer he said he would rather ease himself in to the hustle and bustle of the tower so it wouldn’t hit him like a wall when he came in later.

He wasn’t fooling anyone. A workaholic to the bone, he obviously wanted to read over his notes a few more times and probably jot down a couple new thoughts as well. There were always too many thoughts running around in that massive brain of his.

To his shame Madara was a little surprised by how many people stopped to ask Tobirama if he was really feeling well enough to come in to work once they wandered in to the vicinity of the tower. During work hours they didn’t interact very much and neither of them were terribly social. Madara had somehow crafted the assumption in his mind that not many people were very fond of his husband and he was almost glad to be humbled by the realization that he was wrong. It seemed the man was actually quite popular with those of his birth clan and the allies he had helped bring in over the years.

They parted ways on the stairs once they reached the tower, Tobirama branching off to sequester himself in the quiet of his office until it was time for the meeting. Madara let him be for the hour or so in between. He was grateful that Hashirama seemed to have let off some of his energy during the break, sitting still enough now for both of them to get some work done while they had the time. Council meetings tended to drag on for ages as every clan head wanted to throw their two cents in on every issue to make sure everyone else still remembered how important they were.

When the clock neared two, however, he made a point of leaving his desk in time to scurry down the stairs before Tobirama had even stood up from his own. Although his husband didn’t say as much out loud it was obvious he was at least a little touched by the gesture and Madara decided he would have to put in a little effort to do more nice things in the future. Everyone deserved to be pampered on occasion.

Only a few of the council members were already present in the massive board room that took up half of the top floor but more people began trickling in only a few moments after they arrived. Clan heads, each of them leading at least one heir, secretaries from minor clans to record the minutes in a neutral voice, all of them chattering and filling the room with a low-grade buzz that had Tobirama pinching his face irritably in just a few minutes. Whatever headache was left from his hangover was likely to come back doubled by the time the meeting ended.

As they usually did, Tajima and Butsuma sat at opposite ends of the room, both of them positioned in such a way to appear as though they were at the head of the table, equal forces of power keeping the room hemmed in. While they may have all agreed that the village would be ruled by the council as a whole, most recognized that the two men who started it all stood just a little above the rest of them.

They knew it, too, both of them trying to lead as many discussions as possible and take over any debates they could swing towards themselves. A large portion of the meeting was filled by their voices, as per usual. Despite his position as heir to the Uchiha Madara had chosen to sit further down the table by Tobirama’s side and he was grateful less than an hour in that he had done so as he discovered his own headache forming just from listening to Tajima and Butsuma posture back and forth. He envied Tobirama his neutral position, not required to show more support for either Uchiha or Senju due to his unique connection with both, present at the meetings merely for his intellectual input.

Discussion that day covered many topics of varying import but it wasn’t until they were winding down their debate over whether or not to fortifying the outer wall that Tobirama finally perked up and forced the tense muscles of his jaw to unclench.

“Speaking of defenses,” he murmured. “If I might interject, I believe Tajima-sama has come up with an excellent idea with great potential for further development.”

“I have?” Tajima asked after a moment of glaring, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

“Yes, the specialized team you’ve been putting together. I think it’s an excellent idea but you’ve only just begun to reach for the true potential of it.” Completely oblivious to the frantic light growing in Tajima’s eyes, Tobirama carried on as he leaned back in his chair. “Right now the team is small; we should expand it, diversify, perhaps even create an entire new branch of their own if we can work it in to the budget. Each clan hones their own special skillset and each of them have their own elite within those forces. If we gather the best of the best and they dedicate themselves to an even stricter training regimen just imagine all the things they could accomplish.”

“Very interesting.” The Nara clan head brought one of his hands up to stroke at his chin. A man of few words, even that much was enough to announce a deep interest from him.

Nodding in thanks for the recognition, Tobirama went on. “And jumping further off of that: if we have a branch of specialized forces it would only make sense to evaluate the rest of our manpower as well, determine their skills relative to each other. If we introduce ranks denoted by a certain level skill we could assign incoming missions based on those ranks and save some of the lives that are lost when a shinobi is sent on a mission they’re not equipped to handle. Not to mention save time when assigning missions in the first place.”

“You have a lot of thoughts on these ideas, I take it,” Butsuma noted from his end of the table. His chest was puffed out with what looked like pride but Madara thought it was more likely to be arrogance that it was his son gaining such favor today.

And indeed most of the gathered heads were nodding along or perked up with interest.

“I do indeed,” Tobirama agreed. “Unfortunately I haven’t had time to draft any outlines or preliminary proposals but I welcome the council to brainstorm suggestions. If each head of clan could bring with them to the next meeting a list of their five most elite fighters and note which skill they specialize in, I think by then I will have a more comprehensive plan to put forward. Taking in to account what suggestions the council puts forth today of course.”

“Of course,” Tajima ground out from between his teeth, clearly upset though Madara wasn’t sure why. He should have been happy to have an idea recognized that originated from him. He should have been crowing with smug pride the way Butsuma was but instead all he did was twitch and continue to glare down the table at his son-in-law.

“We owe you many thanks for your contribution to this matter,” Tobirama noted, always the dutiful one.

Tajima waved his words aside and allowed the rest of the table to take up the discussion without him – more strange behavior. Watching him sit the entire conversation out and not once make a point of reminding people that this concept had originally been his was strange enough that Madara had trouble paying attention to anything else as he puzzled over the anomaly. It wasn’t until he noticed the way his father was rattling stiff fingers against the arm of his chair, a nervous habit that only came out in times of particular distraction, that an idea occurred to him so ridiculous he nearly blurted it out right there for the whole room to hear.

Had this idiot really thought he was going to wrest control of the village entirely to himself with his little force of Uchiha snoops? That he would undermine Butsuma with Uchiha spies without seeing any backlash for using only his own clansmen who could easily be accused of having a bias towards him? And for all his planning – getting the little squad together, keeping his actions and intentions quiet so as not to attract attention to himself – somehow he’d still thought it was a good idea to mention this to his son, married to the son of the same man he was trying to spy on. It seemed ridiculous that someone so smart could have made so many rookie mistake.

And yet here he was all but pouting with his arms crossed and his eyes set firmly in the side of Tobirama’s head as he visibly tried to drive holes through the bone.

The meeting lasted for more than an hour after that and Tajima did manage to pull himself together eventually, always determined to present himself as a figure of authority and a leader to be respected. No one truly respected a man who sat on his ass while others did all the work. Madara noticed that he made a point of being the one to make closing remarks, neglecting to mention anything about the idea of a specialized force of elite fighters from all clans, the Inferno Squad as they were already being called. When the room slowly began to empty he was one of the first ones out the door but he did so with a long look over his shoulder at the man he had once approached with peace held between his hands.

How a single taste of power could change a man, Madara thought.

Since it was so close to when they usually set off for home anyway Madara talked his husband in to doing so after they had stopped to chat with Hashirama about some of the questions he hadn’t had a chance to ask with so many people all talking over themselves. Tobirama seemed all too glad to escape the noise of the tower and go home where he could nurse the remains of his hangover in peace, away from the judging eyes he seemed to believe were staring at him from around every corner.

It felt like the meeting had passed by in a rapid blur but Madara knew it was only because he hadn’t paid attention to less than half of what he should have, zoning out to disappear in his own thoughts for large portions of conversation. There were some things he always zoned out of, things that were so far out of his purview that he knew he would have no suggestions for. But for the most part as an heir he should have been listening to everything going on around him to prepare for the day when he would sit as the head of the Uchiha clan and make decisions with actual weight behind them. Some days he managed. Other days he got lost in wondering if Tobirama was also thinking about what happened last night or staring down the table and trying to imagine what would happened between them if Tajima somehow did get his supposed ‘revenge’ on the man who hadn’t actually wronged him in any way.

So distracted was he just thinking about his own distraction that he barely even noticed where they were until Tobirama was closing the door behind them and asking him if he was alright. Madara flushed and nodded, slipping off his shoes to pile them neatly in the genkan. Then he opened his mouth to ask something that immediately slipped his mind as another question entirely popped out without thought.

“Do you remember last night?”

Tobirama paused where he was about to flop down on the couch, lowering himself slowly instead with a cautious express as he replied, “Some of it.”

“What all do you remember?” Madara asked.

“Everything at Anija’s house, leaving to go to the bar, I remember seeing my cousin. Most of what we talked about it is pretty vague. I do remember her laughing a few times, although she may have been laughing at my unusual behavior.” His nose wrinkled with distaste.

“Okay. What about when you came home?”

Covering his mouth to cough uncomfortably, Tobirama admitted, “I might remember some parts of what happened after I returned home.”

As he spoke he looked down but when his sentence was finished he peeked back up through snowy lashes and Madara was pretty sure his heart may have stopped inside his chest. Something in that look drew him in, pulling him across the room to sink down on to the couch as well. Once he was there, however, he realized that he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do with his hands. For lack of any other ideas he folded them loosely and let them hang in his lap at the ready. What he wanted to be ready for he had no idea but knowing that he could react as their conversation moved on made him feel better at least.

“So you probably remember us disagreeing,” he noted.

“Disagreement isn’t really how I would have described it,” Tobirama said in a lightly teasing voice. “But yes, I do remember that part.”

“Then you remember…” Courage deserted him at the last second and Madara found himself trailing off as he wondered how other people managed to date and flirt and actually get through all of these emotional twists without going mad or embarrassing themselves.

Mercifully, Tobirama seemed to know what he was trying to get at.

“I do have a bit of a fuzzy memory of what may have been you kissing me, although I wasn’t sure if I could trust that it actually happened or if I should just put that down to a dream.” He smiled and Madara decided he was jealous of how little tension the man held in his body right then, as though he had nothing in the world to be worried about.

“Right. Well. It wasn’t a dream. But you said something to me afterwards that–”

“I asked you to do it again once I was sober.”

“Yes.” Madara cleared his throat. “You are, ah, you’re sober now,” he pointed out.

For a few moments Tobirama simply looked at him but just as Madara realized that he was the one who was supposed to move first in this situation, he was the one who was expected to go in for the life changing moment between them, apparently Tobirama got tired of waiting on him. With an exasperated little puff of air he leaned over and slid fingers along Madara's jaw, cupping one cheek before dipping his head and then they were kissing again almost like they had the night before.

Almost. This was different than the explosion of emotions last night when everything spilled over until it ended with his back to the wall and lips moving against his own in ways he could barely keep up with. None of that was present now. This was slow, unhurried, exploratory without being hesitant. Absolutely nothing about the way Tobirama kissed him was hesitant. Within moments Madara felt like he was the one who had been consuming alcohol now as he almost felt like his body were floating straight up in to the air. Butterflies exploded in his stomach in such a way that he finally understood what that phrase was supposed to mean but it was hard to concentrate on bodily fluctuations with that strong hand on his jaw guiding him where to tilt his head for sharp teeth to catch his lower lip oh so gently.

To his own mortification he whined when the kiss was over. And this time Tobirama had no compunctions about chuckling at him until Madara used one of the hands he had kept so free and ready to smack the man across the ribs.

“Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”

“You’re right, it isn’t.”

“Then why are you laughing at me?” he demanded.

He was unprepared for Tobirama to stroke the cheek still held in one hand and level him with a gaze soft enough that it surely belonged on someone else entirely. “I suppose I’m just happy.”

Immediately he felt his entire face puffing up and getting ready to splutter as he always did when he couldn’t figure out how to process his feelings. Tobirama was, thankfully, smart enough to cut him off with another kiss that curled his toes against the carpet.

This was nice, he decided. Of all the possible ways to head off an argument he decided that he was a fan of this one since he got something in the end no matter what. He could see them enjoying moments like this for the rest of their lives and although that was sort of terrifying in a way it was also thrilling. For months he had looked forward to the years ahead of him with dread and an aching empty sadness in his chest but now the future looked bright and happy and Madara only wished he could find which god had blessed him with the patience to reach this moment he was able to experience right now. They deserved a thank you.

Not, of course, that he had any intention of communicating such disgusting sentiments. He would much rather shuffle a little sideways to fist his hand in Tobirama’s shirt, keeping them as close as possible while he let his husband show him some of the things they could have had this whole time. From the surprisingly tender way Tobirama held him Madara gathered that there were many things he had been missing out on and most of them had probably been waiting for much longer than he would like to think about.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2020 everyone!

Once the idea of it was put out for the rest of the council to chew on getting an organization of elite fighters put together was surprisingly easy. This soon after they had all come together new departments were being formed all the time still so it wasn’t all that difficult to simply branch a few more people off to begin organizing this latest project. What was more difficult was trying to get everyone on board with the same plan because each council member had fifteen suggestions and they all wanted theirs to be implemented first. In the end Tobirama wrested control of the entire project away from the fluttering fingers of so many cranky old men and dropped it all in Izuna’s lap. If his brother in law had enough time to spend his evenings in bars or running around trying to ruin marriages then he certainly had enough time to oversee the creation of this new military body.

Izuna wasn’t exactly happy to have such a large amount of work thrown at him without warning but Tobirama had noticed how the man was always looking for a chance to prove himself capable at anything within reach. Such a big opportunity was the perfect thing to keep him out of trouble. Perhaps it was reaching a little but he also hoped that maybe the responsibility would stabilize him a little, help him grow up even a tiny bit. He couldn’t keep waiting to crawl back under his big brother’s wings.

Not now that his big brother was married and building a life of his own. Tobirama had a few plans to see that life continue to grow and he refused to be put off those plans by anyone but Madara himself.

With things at home once again settled and happier than ever Tobirama was able to throw himself in to his own work with a new energy, still spread too thin as he had been before but keeping his head above water just a little better now that he didn’t have to waste so much brain space worrying about the man who shared his bed. He’d always been a firm believer in not bringing one’s personal life to work and here he had been one of the worst offenders with all the drama between himself and Madara. He never allowed it to affect his quality of work, of course, but he couldn’t deny that it had affected his productivity at times.

Unfortunately that meant he was suddenly spending almost as much time in his father’s office as Hashirama did despite not being required to report directly to his father for day to day work. The only occasion he actually needed to spend any time on the top floor outside of meetings was when he finished a project that required a proper report but with the surge of energy helping him get more than ever done in the office he found the loose ends tying together for several projects and proposals that had been sitting unfinished while his head was stuck in the clouds.

Once upon a time Tobirama had loved his father, he was sure. Back when he was too young to know him for who he really was. Standing across the desk and watching the man ignore him in favor of sorting the mail that had just been delivered he wondered what it said about him that he felt very little for the one who had sired him. He couldn’t say he loved Butsuma but nor could he say that he hated him. Once his training began at five years old their relationship had quickly become one of superior and subordinate with very little else in between and yet he’d never felt as though he were lacking anything. He may not have had a caring father but what he did have was an older brother who loved him and a first cousin who supported him through every up and down that had come to him in life, two people who were more precious to him than the rest of the world put together, so despite the distance between himself and the man across the desk Tobirama had never been alone and he was fine with that. He knew no other way of being.

“The Land of Iron?” Butsuma’s voice drew him out of his musings, though he waited to see if he was actually being addressed or if the man were just muttering to himself again. “Did we write any letters to the Land of Iron?”

“Not that I recall,” Tobirama admitted. Which was enough of a point on its own, really. He had a memory like a steel trap for most things.

“We used to trade with them when my father was clan head,” the other mused. “It’s possible they’ve heard of our newfound stability and wish to open trade again. Good fortune if that is the case; their weapons are of incredible quality.”

Furrowing his brows in thought, Butsuma pulled the cap off the end of the tube and slid a thin scroll out on to his desk. His eyes darted up and down the page as he read through the missive and then he was sitting back in his chair with both eyebrows up near his hairline. The parchment made a faint whoosh when he released it to fall to his desk without care.

“They’re offering an alliance,” he said. Tobirama blinked twice.

“I can’t say I was expecting that.”

“Neither was I. The trade offer I expected but to actually have them suggest a treaty of some sort…they do have caveats, of course, and they’re calling for an official meeting to hammer out such accords but this is certainly a boon I did not see coming. And without prompting!” His eyebrows were slowly coming back down but the shock in his eyes had yet to fade.

Tobirama paused the thoughts already racing through his mind with several half-formed ideas, chary nature catching on his father’s words. It wasn’t that unusual for a minor or even a major clan to make the first move seeking an alliance with the growing stability of Konohagakure but it _was_ fairly odd for a far off land famous for remaining neutral in almost all conflicts to seek out an alliance. Not just a set of accords stating they would both respect each other’s borders but an actual alliance from what it sounded like. Very strange.

Strange enough for a few suspicions to form but he kept those to himself for the moment, unwilling to cause any upset in case he was only jumping at shadows. Instead he hummed and murmured, “Most fortuitous indeed. We should gather the council to get their thoughts.”

“We had a full meeting just last week to discuss your new ranking system,” Butsuma said, now frowning again with indecision – or possibly at the memory of listening to the Hyuga and Shimura heirs scream themselves hoarse over whether or not kekkei genkai should be considered as proof of having reached a certain level of skill.

“Perhaps an informal gathering? Just the heads themselves, I should think.” Tobirama tilted his head in question.

“I suppose it’s not as though any of those lazy bums are doing much else with their day. Hmph. Always letting their rank do the work for them.” Butsuma’s opinions of the other clan heads had never been particularly high, a battle Tobirama had decided was not worth fighting. It certainly wasn’t worth getting in to now when there were more important things to discuss.

“If you don’t mind, I should like for myself and Madara to attend as well. He has excellent insight, I find.”

Butsuma waved impatiently. “Yes, yes, fine. I have other things to do right now. Send word for the others to meet after lunch, would you?”

Tobirama nodded once and spun around to leave without waiting to be dismissed. There was no need. He understood the look in Butsuma’s eyes meant the man had already forgotten the unwanted distraction there with him. Before anything else he sent a few runners out to make the rounds and notify the right people as he’d been asked to. Then he settled in to spend his morning as he always did, squaring away the daily tasks that needed to get done first so they wouldn’t pile up on him the next day. With the knowledge that his afternoon would be interrupted he actually managed to step on the gas a little extra and get more done than he expected – right up until twenty minutes to noon when he felt a rush of guilt go through him.

“Madara,” he mumbled in his breath. “I forgot to tell Madara.”

Of all the people he needed to invite to this impromptu meeting it was shameful that he hadn’t remembered to send a message to his own husband. Clapping the heel of one palm to his forehead, Tobirama stood from his chair and hurried out of the room. Thankfully the hallways were mostly empty so he didn’t have to dodge a hundred bodies trying to move up a floor.

When he got there, however, the office was also empty and for a few moments he did nothing but stand in the doorway staring at the two desks inside with a bewildered expression. He couldn’t remember the last time he had even walked past the room and not seen Madara hunkered down in his chair with a pencil in hand gripped like he were going to war with it. Madara did almost everything with an edge of aggression, even writing his reports, and Tobirama couldn’t help being endeared by the sheer unnecessity of it all.

All it took was a quick second to stretch his senses and he located both Madara and Hashirama in a teahouse only half a block from the tower. They must have taken an early lunch, he realized, and while his first instinct was to simply head over and join them he was held back by thoughts of all the work he would miss out on completing if he squandered the last hour left to him.

He could eat when they got home, he decided reluctantly. Sending another runner with a message was difficult when the draw of spending lunch with his husband and brother was so strong. Tobirama was fairly sure they must have heard his sigh three floors down when he made it back to his own desk and sat down with enough reluctance to make his relation with Hashirama obvious. He could feel the others that supposedly shared his office space puttering about on the first floor so he at least had the silence and calm environment he preferred to work in but it wasn’t nearly as pleasant as slipping in to that little café would have been, inviting himself to sit next to Madara, entwining their fingers out of sight below the table, and teasing Hashirama with blatantly false denials that anything at all had changed between them.

Instead he filled his lunch hour with forms and charts and endless tables covered in numbers and notations enough that if he didn’t love mathematics so much he might have shredded each of these documents. Madara came back from lunch a little early and for a moment Tobirama thought he might have a bit of unexpected company but at the last moment that familiar chakra was intercepted by someone else and led away to do his own job.

Fifteen minutes before the surprise meeting Tobirama all but tossed his pencil down and rubbed at the space between his brows. A headache was already forming and he hadn’t even had to deal with all the idiocy of multiple clan heads vying for dominance yet. Wonderful.

Determined to have a moment since he had been denied an entire lunch, Tobirama hurried out of his office and up the stairs to intercept Madara just as he stepped out in to the hall. He ignored the startled squawk and pulled them both in to the first room he couldn’t feel any presence inside of. None of the empty desks had any judgement for him as he shut the door and pressed Madara against it to bring their lips together for a warm, languid kiss, gratified to feel his partner melt in to it immediately.

“What was that for?” Madara asked, dazed.

“I felt like it,” Tobirama replied gruffly. He cleared his throat and fixed his shirt as though nothing had happened. “We should get going before we’re late.”

“You were the one that pulled me in here!”

“And now I’m telling you we should go.”

Madara glared at him for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching to hold a smile at bay, but eventually he lunged forward to steal another kiss before spinning around and all but leaping out in to the hallway. Tobirama followed with much less tension between his shoulders than had been there only a moment ago. All the yearning built up from denying himself a café lunch hour had been rather pleasantly satisfied by their quick little liaison.

Watching from the corner of one eye as Madara stumbled along in a bit of a daze, Tobirama entered the board room feeling rather smug. None of the clan heirs were present but for themselves, not even Hashirama, only the men and women who viewed themselves as the most important people in the village. Politically, of course, they could be considered correct but that attitude had always struck Tobirama in an unpleasant way, the thinking that all the lives of everyone else were somehow less important because they hadn’t been born to the head family.

Yet another of the battles he had chosen not to fight; there was no point when he already knew he would never change anyone’s mind about it.

Picking out a seat midway down the table as he usually preferred to when there was space available, he pulled them both down between the Aburame matriarch and the Kohaku clan head whose beard proceeded him by several feet wherever he went. Every time Tobirama saw him he was tempted to ask when that mess had last been combed. He refrained today, as he always did, and lifted his head to watch with no little exasperation as his father marched in to the room wearing one of the smuggest expressions he had ever seen.

Very much in the mood to mock any of the idiots around him, Tobirama watched his father place himself on a plain wooden chair as though it were a golden throne and muttered quietly under his breath in imitation, “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.” He was gratified to hear muffled snickering from the seat beside him – then both he and Madara were biting their lips to keep the laughter in when Butsuma unknowingly repeated his mockery verbatim.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today.”

“Go on,” Tajima called in a deadpan voice from his end of the table, “thrill us.”

“Yes, I intend to. I have in my hand a letter from the Land of Iron, with whom I will soon be signing a treaty to secure an alliance.” He looked incredibly pleased with himself, even more so to hear many of the heads around the table murmur with approving surprise.

Tajima, on the other hand, did not look as thrilled as he had asked to be. He looked instead as though he had swallowed several lemons at once and immediately regretted doing so with his face pinched and drained of blood, jaw clenched until the veins in his neck began to pop out alarmingly.

“I beg your pardon. _You_ secured an alliance with the samurai?” he asked. Tobirama noted the deadly iron undertone and wondered at the odd emphasis but Butsuma paid it no mind.

“Correct. I have a communication that reached me this morning to prove it. Yamanaka-san, if you would pass this along the table for the council to read.” The letter was shared around and with each set of hands it passed through Tajima looked closer and closer to exploding at any moment without any obvious explanation for why. By the time it reached him he was nearly frothing at the mouth with a rage that did not seem to fit the situation, snatching the letter out of the Hyuga head’s grasp the moment it came within reach.

His eyes fairly snapped up and down the page as he read. Somehow he managed to make even reading look angry, a trait he shared with his son although on Madara it was more adorable than off-putting. Tobirama mused that it must be his husband’s cheeks. Tajima’s cheeks didn’t puff out when he was angry; they sucked in.

When it was no longer needed the letter was placed back down on the table with deliberate motions and it felt as though the entire room were watching for Tajima’s reaction. They were not disappointed, though obviously many of them were a little confused.

“You say this was delivered to you?” he asked his counterpart, nostrils flaring.

“It was.”

“Well then. You will all excuse me, I hope, while I go down and speak with the postal department or whoever delivers the mail around here.” Standing from his seat, Tajima paused when Tobirama spoke up without thinking, a habit built from years of dealing with a brother who couldn’t keep a proper title in his head if he taped it in there.

“The couriers, I think you mean.”

Halfway out of his chair, Tajima twitched violently. “Yes,” he ground out. “The _couriers_. If the council will excuse me now.”

Until he heard the sheer offense in the man’s tone Tobirama hadn’t thought anything of his subtly reprimanding tone, though it was hard to feel bad at all when he had Madara's hand on his knee squeezing tightly to hold in his utter joy at seeing Tajima scolded in public like a young child behaving badly. It only got harder for the both of them to contain themselves when the fool at the head of the table attempted to sweep regally towards the door only to have his dignity and his clothing torn at the same time as his sleeve got caught in a few splinters on the arm of his chair.

Since those splinters had not been there at the beginning of the meeting Tobirama could only assume the poor lump of wood had taken the brunt of his unexplained temper. Extracting himself and what little was left of his composure, Tajima stomped out of the room with a thundercloud hanging over his head for all to see. In his wake many of the council began to whisper amongst themselves.

“It seems Uchiha-sama has some business more important than that of the village,” one of them remarked with scorn obvious in every word.

“As we all know, he is indeed a very busy man,” Butsuma pointed out. He could afford to be magnanimous now that he’d made himself look so good with this unexpected and greatly beneficial alliance. “He will understand if we continue without him.”

Left with no one else to challenge his authority as the one leading the meeting, Butsuma called the room to order and happily took charge for the rest of their discussions. Without their usual minor clansmen present to take notes Tobirama appointed himself the job of recording minutes but that didn’t stop him from throwing in a suggestion here or there. He was surprised that Madara didn’t say much, though from the contained amusement on the man’s face Tobirama thought more and more with each passing minute that his suspicions from that morning had been correct.

Waiting until the entire council had run dry of things to say took forever. As much as Tobirama tried to give respect to the generation before his own he had noticed that many of them said more than necessary just to fill the room with the sound of their voice, almost as though they were afraid others might forget their importance if they didn’t fill a certain quota of words each day. In the end it did little more than waste everyone’s time yet still he was forced to sit quietly and listen to them lest he give offense and cause himself more trouble than he wanted to deal with. Letting the old folks ramble on was easier than soothing so many ruffled feathers.

It gave Madara time to compose himself, at the very least, so by the time they were all finally able to escape the meeting he was able to cobble together an expression that at least partially resembled solemnity. The façade crumbled as soon as they left and Tobirama pulled him in to the same office they had borrowed before, thankfully still empty.

“You seemed to find your father’s reaction to this alliance particularly funny,” he noted.

“Do you think he noticed?” Madara burst in to a wave of laughter and Tobirama let him ride it out, a reward for holding it all in for so long. When he could make himself heard again he took a quick moment to make sure Tajima’s chakra was still tucked away somewhere broody and subdued before speaking.

“To be honest I don’t think he noticed anything except that letter and my instincts tell me he knows a little something about it that my father and the rest of the council do not.”

He was not at all surprised when Madara collapsed against him with another round of laughter.

“I don’t know what’s funnier,” his husband said. “The fact that he thought he could make a secret alliance with the samurai and they would somehow help him gain more power in his own village when they’re so determined to focus on none but their own. Or the fact that someone delivered their reply to _your_ father by accident. Did you see his face!?”

“Yes, I did.”

“He was so angry! All pinched up and quiet!”

“I’m noticing a distinct lack of sympathy for your father,” Tobirama mused carefully.

Despite both of them being aware of the situation between Tajima and Butsuma it wasn’t something they had spoken on very much. Possibly they were both being a little overly cautious about their own relationship and after already having one fight it felt much too early to have another. He was pleased, however, to see Madara do nothing but scoff, a petty sort of sound that he could definitely appreciate. Madara had a hundred different reaction sounds and all of them were fun to listen to.

“He’s an idiot for thinking Butsuma is up to anything nefarious and a bigger idiot for thinking he can somehow wrest control of this village all to himself – as though the council will let that happen! I mean, he almost backed out of the whole idea when your father wanted to arrange our marriage and now he thinks he’s the one that gets to be top dog?”

“Am I right in my suspicions that what I turned in to this new Inferno Squad was actually meant to be a gang of Uchiha spies?” Tobirama asked, the corners of his lips turning up as well.

Madara dropped a head on his shoulders and shook with mirth. “I didn’t realize it until the meeting when you started praising him for his ‘excellent idea’ but yes, I think so. He looked ready to kill you on the spot!”

“Good lord.”

“I know!”

“What an idiot…”

“_I know_!” Madara leaned farther against him until Tobirama found that he didn’t really want to think about Tajima anymore.

Slipping fingers under his partner’s chin, he encouraged Madara to lift his head so he could draw them together for another kiss, feeling rather illicit doing this in someone else’s office when they both should have been getting back to work instead. As always it was a bit of a thrill to knowingly break any kind of rule but it was twice as thrilling to have Madara give a pleased hum and press against him in a silent request for more. He was only too happy to oblige.

He was also incredibly pleased by the hands that slid up the sides of his neck to bury themselves in his hair. Each time he stole a kiss Madara grew more and more bold, more willing to explore. And each time it became more and more obvious that he would need to start finding clever ways to explain why he was suddenly taking much longer showers.

“We should get back to work,” he murmured eventually, reluctantly, whispering the syllables in the space between them with duty heavy on his tongue.

“Just one more minute,” Madara bargained.

Feeling as though a wave of peace were gently washing over him, meeting already long forgotten, Tobirama smiled. “Alright. One more minute.”

They stayed for ten.


	24. Chapter 24

“Have you seen – oh. Thank you.” Tobirama paused in tearing apart his half of the closet to accept the folded bundle of material that appeared beside his head. He stood still for Madara to peck him on the cheek and drop the missing clothes off before trundling away again, unaware of the red eyes following him with soft gratitude.

Now that he had his favorite yukata in hand Tobirama was free to hurry in to the bathroom so he could get changed. It still confused him a little that Madara could go to a public bathhouse and not bat an eyelash yet the two of them changing in front of each other was somehow not allowed but he had decided it wouldn’t get him anything to push the boundaries. All that would accomplish would be a flustered, irritated husband and possible backsliding in the relationship they had both worked hard to build together.

Reminding himself to keep his mouth shut, he rushed through changing his clothes and used the large mirror over their sink to make sure everything about him was as well put together as possible. Today they were attending a large gathering in honor of Susumu’s birthday and although he knew she wouldn’t think anything of it even if he showed up covered in honey and blood he also knew the Uchiha elders still had a tendency to look a little too closely at him. Many in the clan had warmed up to him quite a bit since he stopped holding himself quite so far apart but the difference in the way he presented himself to others was still a little strange to them and the elders often had a hard time figuring out whether or not he was truly content among their people.

“Quit primping your hair and get out of there,” Madara called through the door, making him roll his eyes.

“If either of us spends too much time on their hair it is you,” he called back. When he opened the door Madara was huffing but he did not take his words back. “The bathroom is yours, your highness.”

“Damn _straight_ I’m highness. My highness? I’m a highness? Oh just shut up and let me get in the bathroom!”

Tobirama nodded with a solemn expression until the other man pushed past him and threw the door shut, then he allowed a smile to peek through. What a ridiculous person.

It did take Madara significantly longer to get himself ready but Tobirama was gracious enough not to mention it and they were heading out for the celebration only a few minutes after his husband stomped back out of the bedroom with his hair somehow messier than when he had stormed inside. Outside they passed by many other clan members who had no connection to the crotchety old baker who sometimes joked about poisoning her pies. Tobirama noted every gaze that followed the two of them down the street and tallied up the ratio of approving glances versus blank disinterest, pleased to conclude that there were more people happy to see them out on a stroll together than there were people who had other thoughts, whatever those may be.

Once they reached the streets closer to Susumu’s home they started encountering other party guests, a couple of whom tried to pull them in to speculation over what sort of scandal would go down this year. Evidently the old biddy was sort of infamous for causing some kind of scene every year on the one day she claimed she should be able to get away with anything. Tobirama still wasn’t sure how he felt about the story Madara told him the night before recounting the year Susumu disappeared in to the woods and made the whole party chase her down for an hour and a half. She had apparently only returned for the bribe of alcohol.

“Are we expected to announce ourselves to the woman of the hour?” Tobirama asked as they let themselves in to the home.

“Nah. She mingles and finds people on her own.” Pausing to eye the snack table with interest, Madara shrugged. “We’ll see her at some point so don’t worry about it.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Let’s get some of that food, I am famished.”

Tobirama followed along and thought that sometimes it was very clear how this man could make such fast friends with his brother. Straight to the food table would have been Hashirama's first move as well and he would have been wearing just the same kind of eager light on his face, though Madara at least made a poor attempt to retain his dignity by not grabbing at the treats with his fingers, using whatever utensils were provided to portion out a few morsels.

It seemed like such a simple idea to turn and scope out somewhere for the two of them to sit down or even a corner to stand in while they nibbled on their food but in the few seconds Tobirama had his head turned away it was almost as though his companion had fallen through to another dimension, gone by the time he looked back. Blinking around the room yielded no sign of Madara anywhere. How was it possible for a man with such thunderous footsteps to slip away that quietly? It just didn’t seem fair. Or maybe that was the instinctual discomfort talking as Tobirama realized he was now alone in a room full of people he didn’t know how to talk to.

Much too dignified to call out for his husband over the noise of the crowd, Tobirama opted for moving through the people scattered about the home with a look of concentration on his face that he knew from experience usually gave off the impression that he knew where he was going. Generally people tended to stay out of his way when he put on that face and it did the same job now – mostly. He made it over to the other side of the living room and through the kitchen before something small yet solid collided with his legs.

“Sensei!”

He knew that voice. Tobirama looked down with a tiny smile already growing, unable to make himself feel irritated for nearly dropping his plate.

“I hadn’t expected to see you here today,” he murmured. Kagami beamed up at him and squeezed his leg harder.

“Hi! I’m glad sensei came! All the other adults are being boring and talking about adult stuff but sensei always says interesting stuff. Say something cool!” With that demand he stared up at his role model with eyes almost as wide as his grinning mouth. Tobirama stared back at him and tried not to look over at the people he could see giggling in his peripheral vision, pretending they were only laughing at the exuberant child.

“What constitutes ‘cool’?” he asked because it was always good to know the parameters of a given task.

Unfortunately his question sent the little imp off in a fit of his own giggles while all the adults turned away to make their amusement less obvious. Tobirama hoped his ears were not burning. Clearly he was making a fool of himself somehow but it was not his fault Kagami refused to clarify!

“Have you seen Madara?” he asked, hoping to change the subject since that one wasn’t doing him any favors.

“Nope! Come over here with me, sensei, I want to show you the backyard!”

The easiest thing to do was give in to his fate so rather than fight it Tobirama allowed a small hand to wrap around his own and pull him through the rest of the house towards the sizable backyard. One corner was taken up by a small table and several lawn chairs, some of them shaded under umbrellas while others had been left in the open for sunbathing. Another corner had a small garden with messy rows of what looked to be a mish mash of probably whatever seeds Susumu could find at the time, no rhyme or reason and no scheme to be found, but it did have a homey sort of charm that still reminded him a bit of Hashirama's greenhouse.

Mostly the yard was filled with more adults milling about with drinks or food in hand. Kagami pulled him along in a slow march around the perimeter while pointing out every tiny little detail he could think of, all of which Tobirama had already noticed, though he absolutely refused to say so. It was good to see Kagami’s observational skills had improved so much.

At the end of the impromptu tour Kagami asked him brightly if there was anything else he wanted to see.

“Our host, perhaps,” he suggested. “I don’t suppose you’ve happened to see her around? I should like to wish her a happy birthday.”

“Yeah! Yeah she’s probably still over in the side yard!”

“Lead on, then.”

He let himself be marched onwards once more through a small gate and found that Kagami had indeed been correct. Susumu may be short but her personality was so big it would have been hard not to see her the moment he turned the corner in to a small alley of grass between the homes. More flowers were planted here, though it looked like the seeds might have been blown in by the wind rather than tended by any human hands. The birthday girl was dancing around directly on top of one as she demonstrated something for an amusing story she seemed to be recounting.

The moment she spotted him, however, the story came to a grinding halt so she could put both hands on her hips and grin at him in a way that made Tobirama consider turning around to flee.

“Don’t do that,” he told her admonishingly. “I don’t like that face.”

“You dog!” she cried. Then she leapt forward to smack him on the arm and laugh at the bafflement on his face.

“I am not a dog.”

“Oh you know what I mean. I hear you and that no good student of mine are _very_ close these days.” To his embarrassment, it took a raunchy wink for her meaning to sink in.

Tobirama pinched the bridge of his nose and ignored the confused questions from Kagami as his own student tried to figure out what that was supposed to mean. “Do lower your voice, if you don’t mind. That isn’t the sort of thing one shouts out to an entire house full of people.”

“Aw take the breadstick out of your ass, we’re not even inside!” Susumu laughed his concerns away but he did notice she spoke a little lower this time.

“I came to wish you good tidings. Congratulations on making another trip around the sun without dying,” he told her in his driest tone. She roared with laughter and pounded his arm again. “I don’t suppose Madara stopped by to say the same? We lost track of each other as soon as he dropped whatever sugary monstrosity this is on my plate.”

Both of them looked down to see the baked treat directly in the middle of all the healthy vegetables he had chosen for himself. He knew it was likely she was the one who baked the treat but it wasn’t blueberry so he wasn’t going to eat it; Madara probably dropped it there just to annoy him. Or maybe because he’d run out of room on his own plate and he knew it would be safe there.

“Haven’t seen him.”

“Mn.” Tobirama very carefully did not allow his nose to wrinkle. Without Madara's company he wasn’t sure how long he could last without accidentally offending someone and ruining all the effort he’d put in to improving the goodwill between himself and the rest of the Uchiha clan.

“You look a little constipated,” Susumu distracted him before he could spiral. “Got something on your mind?”

Shoving down his first instinct to find offense in that, Tobirama blinked at her thoughtfully. Of all the many things he wouldn’t care to bring up with Madara for fear of upsetting the balance he couldn’t think of a single one that was likely to offend Susumu; she seemed fairly unflappable in all the interactions he’d had with her. Something must have shown on his face for her to see that he indeed had something more than well wishes to say.

He was a little concerned when she turned to the handful of people she’d been telling her story to and shooed them away but they took it with little surprise and no complaints, obviously used to this behavior. Susumu glared at their backs until they had all moseyed around to the backyard proper and then turned to set her gaze on Kagami. The little mite stared back at her with the emptyheaded sort of happiness only children and true fools could achieve. Tobirama had seen it often enough on his own brother.

“What do you think you’re still doing here?” she demanded.

“I want to stay with sensei.”

“Too bad! You can’t!”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Kagami pointed out. “Sensei is!”

Tobirama ignored the warmth clenching in his chest and dropped a hand to scrub at dark curls. “Your boss has a mission for you then. Find Madara and tell him he’s a naughty thing for abandoning me like that. Also tell him that he’d better not wait for me to find him first or else.”

“Or else what?” Kagami asked breathlessly. With a mild shrug Tobirama smiled.

“Nothing. I just want him to sweat a little bit.”

Making his student laugh was a simple joy that he felt no guilt for cherishing, clinging to the sound of it as Kagami turned and flew across the grass to weave his way through the party goers in search of his target. Only when he was entirely out of sight did Tobirama turn back to the woman waiting for him and clear his throat, entirely unsure of where to start.

She must have seen his struggle once more, giving him a brief command of, “Just be blunt.”

“Right. I was hoping to ask you something I don’t think Madara is prepared to talk about. As I understand it, in your culture sex is…important to a relationship, something not to be shared lightly. That bit is clear. What I wanted to know was, ah…” Rubbing at the back of his neck did nothing to quell the embarrassment rising thick in his throat, forcing him to forge on at nearly a full octave lower than his regular speaking voice. “Does that apply to all intimacies? Or merely the act of intercourse?”

Physical relationships hadn’t been a big deal to him since he was old enough to have the process explained to him and experiment a little with a few people close to his own age. Which also, however, meant that he hadn’t had to ask anyone for _advice_ on sexual matters in quite a long time either and he was now discovering the utter awkwardness of it all. The eyebrow Susumu had lifted was not helping, either.

“You want to know if you two can fool around in the sheets a bit?” she summarized. Tobirama gurgled.

“Nothing so crass!”

“Oh don’t try to slip past me with fancy wording. Dress it up however you like, you want to get a little busy with my precious biscuit and you want to know if it’ll freak him out again!” The laughter she followed her words with, in his opinion, was not at all necessary.

Scowling to combat the mortification of having his motivations broken down in to something much too simplistic, Tobirama didn’t bother correcting her. He could see when he would not win that fight and there was no point in wasting his time trying to convince her of what he really had in mind for this topic. After a calming breath he tried to bring the conversation back on track before more company showed up.

“Is it against your culture or not?” he asked. “This isn’t exactly something we’ve ever sat down to have an in-depth discussion about and I would not like to make another misstep as I did on our wedding night.”

“Fine, fine. It’s…frowned upon. Madara is his own person and he is free to make choices for himself but he knows that if anyone found out somehow that he gave his body to someone he wasn’t in love with his peers would lose some respect for him. They would think he acted little better than a red district harlot.”

“Ah. I see.” Tobirama knit his brows together, a little angered by that but unwilling to speak out against a culture not his own.

“On the opposite hand, there’s some other factors to consider as well. The two of you are married and everyone knows you’re quite happy now. It’s not exactly far-fetched for a married couple to be intimate with each other, you know? And on top of that: wasn’t the hardest part of the beginning trying not to let the public know you _weren’t_ happy? For all anyone knows the two of you have been boinking on every surface in your house this whole time.” Susumu snickered when Tobirama balked.

Boinking was not a term he expected nor one he appreciated being used in conjunction to his relationship with Madara. Half the reason he was asking was out of a desire to express his affection in the best way he knew how. From puberty he had learned to show how he felt using his body in whatever way was appropriate to the situation, small pats and hugs for his brother in private moments, holding Touka’s hand on the rare occasion she needed someone there for her and then never mentioning it again.

With Madara things were a little more complicated. He felt more than he currently had the tools to express and yet he didn’t feel comfortable using words that wouldn’t be returned in kind. Intimacy, however, was something he knew very well.

“Thank you for being so straightforward,” he said. What she had told him would need a little thinking on but his first impression was that it simply wouldn’t be a good idea to ask anything more of Madara than they currently had. The last thing he wanted was to drive a wedge between them again and in all honesty he truly was content with the way things were; if he were unable to express himself a little more, well, it wasn’t as though he would have expected Madara to know what he was trying to say anyway. If the best thing to do was to wait for Madara to initiate anything further then he would do so without complaint.

“Blunt is my specialty,” Susumu declared, tossing her head with a little snap of sass. It would have been much more impressive if her hair weren’t caught up in its usual tight bun.

“I do not doubt that. Should we rejoin the party?”

“Yeah, let’s go find your husband and pretend we’re both mad at him. Want to take bets on how long it takes him to crack and start apologizing for nothing?”

Tobirama granted her a tight smirk and offered a respectful arm. She accepted with an off-color comment he chose to ignore as he led them both around to the back of the house where several people gave them curious looks but he chose to ignore those too.

As predicted, Madara was already nervous by the time he shoved his way through the crowd inside the house to find them and spent several minutes dancing around his words trying to figure out what he’d done before demanding they tell him so he could just get the apology over with. He was not happy to have Susumu laugh in his face and declare herself the winner of the bet. Not wanting it to get too out of hand, Tobirama diffused the anger before it could properly build by brushing their hands together discretely, linking their smallest fingers together in what to him counted as quite a public gesture. He was embarrassingly thrilled to feel Madara weave their hands together properly – even if the man was still glaring at him.

Before he could allow himself to get too wrapped up in their own little bubble of intimacy Tobirama was distracted by the appearance of Kagami at his side once more, smiling brilliantly up at him with both hands on his hips.

“Did I do good, sensei? Was he scared? He seemed really scared when I told him he did something bad.”

“Snot-nosed little weasel,” Madara grumbled. “You were in on it!”

“And he did very well indeed,” Tobirama said.

Kagami squirmed joyfully for a moment. Then he visibly restrained himself and gave a sober nod of thanks. “Mama says I should treat you with more respect. So, uh, thank you.”

The effort lasted for perhaps ten seconds before Tobirama very solemnly offered him whatever baked sweet was in the center of the plate he was still toting around. As soon as he was offered a bit of sugar all thoughts of propriety flew out the window and Kagami was back to his usual self, bouncing and twirling in what appeared to be some obscure sort of dance as he devoured his gift. Madara glared at him a little harder for swiping his food.

As amusing as the two of them were to watch it was that much more interesting to watch Susumu’s head jackrabbit from one side to the other with something undetermined yet dangerous in her eyes. Before Tobirama could ask what she was thinking about she had disappeared to squirm underneath someone’s legs, completely ignoring their startled exclamation as she scurried along on her mission with no thought for dignity. Tobirama cocked his head to one side and followed her with his gaze as she disappeared in to the kitchen and reappeared only a minute or so later. He bit the inside of his cheek when she ducked under the same poor man’s legs to come back.

She looked more dangerous than ever as she pressed a fistful of something in to Kagami’s hand and closed his fingers over the bounty before anyone could see what it was.

“Would it be safer for us to evacuate the premises?” Tobirama asked hesitantly, not wanting to seem impolite.

“It’d save your nostrils, that’s for sure!”

“Right. Come along, Madara.”

Grunting when his arms was tugged firmly, Madara kept his eyes locked on Kagami and Susumu as he let out a protesting, “Hey! What gives?”

“I do believe the two of them are about to start in on whatever madness your teacher has in her head for this year’s entertainment.” Tobirama pulled his husband close so they could speak without being heard over the muted roar of several dozen conversations. “I’m not sure what she just handed to Kagami but I would bet a good week’s pay it was either smoke bombs or flash bangs.”

“Oh _excellent_.” Madara did nothing to hide the cackles that spilled out as Tobirama pulled them towards the front door and then thought the better of it.

Nothing would seem more suspicious than the two of them escaping the party to go home just before the excitement started and it seemed a pity to leave so soon after arriving. He rerouted them towards a side door when he spotted one and hustled the two of them outside on the opposite side of the house where nothing grew but weeds in an unmaintained side yard. The brick wall several feet from the side of the house probably had much to do with that.

“We’re not going home?” Madara asked and Tobirama shook his head.

“Just escaping the worst of the madness. Unless you’d like to go back inside and deal with whatever she and Kagami are about to unleash?”

“No, I think this is fine. Kind of boring though.” His husband looked around at the grass and brick and weeds with a distasteful twist of his lips, clearly judging as though he were some sort of landscaping expert disparaging the choices of whoever thought to build their home here. It made Tobirama smile. How soon they all forgot the frantic speed with which the original buildings had been raised and the slapdash nature Tobirama had not entirely been able to convince their fathers out of.

A dozen and more blueprints he had designed and still they had let buildings from each clan run free to create chaos as they would. The memory still made him shudder when he thought about it.

Looking back over his shoulder, Tobirama wondered how long it would be best to stay out here. He didn’t hear any shouting yet but he had no doubt it would start soon; it was probably safest just to wait for that to die out. Or maybe a little longer. Who knew whether Susumu had a secondary plan of some kind up her sleeve?

“I’m sure we could find something to keep you entertained,” he murmured after a few beats.

Rather than blink at him curiously as expected Madara dipped his chin to look up through his lashes with an expression that would almost be considered coy if it weren’t so blatantly _hungry_, clearly picking up on what Tobirama was really trying to say and offering no resistance.

Without another word Tobirama slid both hands around his husband’s waist and pulled him close for a warm kiss that almost managed to drown out the sudden cacophony from the other side of the door. It wasn’t fire and it wasn’t brimstone but in that moment Tobirama had everything he needed in one small village growing bigger with every day, everything he wanted between his hands and the strength not to hold too tightly for fear it would all slip away from his grasp. With an old woman’s words in his mind Tobirama let Madara come to him, asking no more than his partner wanted to give.

He yearned. Oh how he yearned. No one was here to see it if they pressed themselves against that forgotten brick wall where he could show this man more pleasures than he’d ever dreamed of and maybe take a few in return. Closing his eyes just a little bit tighter, he pushed those thoughts away.

So caught up was he in reminding himself to hold back that he nearly leapt out of his skin when he felt hesitant fingers pushing under the collar of his shirt to stroke along the lines of his collar bone. The move was unexpected enough that it shocked an involuntary sound right out of him, a groan that rumbled up from the bottom of his soul. Madara shivered against him and slipped another finger under soft cotton until Tobirama caught his wrist and gently pulled the questing hand away.

“You, husband, are a very dangerous man. Did you know that?”

“Um. Yes. Why does that mean you have to stop kissing me? We were busy, if you didn’t notice.” Madara huffed at him and he shook his head. 

Ducking in for one more kiss, he leaned forward to gently rest their foreheads together. “I did not mean dangerous in that sense.”

“Oh. _Oh_. Were you–?”

“You caught me off guard, that’s all. I promise to control myself a little better in the future.”

“No that’s– I mean, sorry?” Madara frowned and puffed his cheeks out with embarrassment but, to his credit, he didn’t make any move to pull away. “I mean I don’t…mind…if you like something I do…I guess.” With every fragment of sentence his frown deepened and Tobirama would have pitied him the awkwardness if he weren’t feeling quite the same.

He wasn’t entirely sure how Madara intended his broken words but the message which came across was that he didn’t mind if Tobirama found himself aroused by something as long as he didn’t wave it around or anything. The last bit was mostly implied by extension of logic.

“Do me a favor?” Tobirama murmured.

“Mn?”

“Stop talking and just kiss me again before one of us does something even more idiotic.”

“I can do that.” Gratitude stamped across his face, Madara pulled him down and all but devoured him. Other than the residual awkwardness in needing to keep his hips tilted away at just the right angle, Tobirama had no problem with that.

He did have a problem with being interrupted when the door opened some ten minutes later for Kagami to spill through it and almost send them both crashing to the ground. Unrepentant giggling proceeded a rather lackluster apology before the boy immediately set off on an excitable tale of why his hair was now covered with an unidentifiable red goop. Tobirama noted Madara inching out of sight behind him and valiantly kept his student’s attention occupied until the other man was finished readjusting himself.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed their kisses a little too much, a very interesting point that he would need to think about for a while before he could decipher the entirety of how that made him feel.

“You should come back in, Madara-sama. I think I heard someone say that Susumu-baachan went too far this time and they’re gonna take her head off and he didn’t like it when she laughed in his face. They’re fighting in the living room. Baachan said it was just sparring but that’s not how sensei spars with me!”

“Oh for hell’s sake,” Madara sighed exasperatedly. He didn’t seem too worried, though he did shuffle around Tobirama to head back inside. “Always cleaning up the old hag’s messes.”

“Should we be in any way concerned?” Tobirama asked mildly.

Kagami bounced over to pull him along as well. “Baachan _always_ makes someone angry at her birthday parties. I think she thinks it’s funny.”

“That does sound like her,” he admitted.

It wasn’t quite the entertainment he had planned on going back to for at least another ten minutes but if the look Madara threw over one shoulder was anything to go by then this wasn’t exactly the end of their little distraction. With a smile Tobirama followed his two favorite Uchiha in to the chaos; he could while away a few more hours here if the reward was to have Madara all to himself later. That would always be a good trade in his books.

As they opened the door, however, Kagami piped up with another little nugget of information neither of them had expected to hear.

“Sensei should probably come inside too anyway. Your dad is here! Momma says I need to be _extra_ respectful of him but he didn’t seem to like it when I laughed at him for having sticky hair. Do you think he hates me now?” He didn’t seem to notice that his words sent icy cold slithering down Tobirama’s spine.

“I’m sorry…my father is _what?_”


	25. Chapter 25

After searching high and low in every other spot he could think to check Madara was forced to admit that Tobirama had probably retreated to the depths of his laboratory and reluctantly head that way. It wasn’t that he was nervous about going back to the place where he had nearly ended his own marriage too soon. That fear still gripped him every time he thought about Tobirama returning here but he had learned to fold the feeling away with memories of how well constructed the new layer of protective seals had been once Mito was finished with them. Rather it was knowing he would have to speak with Touka to gain access to the basement which made his steps unenthusiastic as he turned up the walkway. Now more than ever he found himself wishing he’d remembered to have Tobirama key him in to the wards around the separate entrance. So far he hadn’t needed to drag the man out of any terrible research binges but he had been assured several times that it would happen eventually.

He sort of wished it had happened once already. At least then he wouldn’t be knocking on Touka’s front door and cringing with every blow, almost praying she wasn’t home except for that would mean tracking her down and getting this over with anyway. Madara put on the bravest face he had and squared his shoulders as he felt a half-familiar presence approaching inside the home.

She didn’t look all that impressed to see him but then she never looked terribly impressed by much anyway. 

“I’m off duty,” was her greeting, tempting him to roll his eyes.

“Congratulations. I need you to let me in downstairs.”

“Oh, I thought you wanted me to replace someone calling out sick for patrol again. Softies. If they can’t run patrol on an upset tummy they’re not fit to be a shinobi.” She gave a snort of disgust that Madara couldn’t help but agree with. Village life came with a lot of perks but it was also letting some of their number grow lazy and soft.

Not wanting to let her go off on a rant, he indicated the empty hallways behind her with a vague motion. “Can I get in there? I want to see my husband and he won’t hear me knocking from the other entrance.”

“Ah and you need to get past me, hm? Very interesting. I wonder what you would give me to get through my house.” When Touka pulled her lips back it was more of a snarl than a grin and he didn’t like it one bit. Madara held back the urge to stick his tongue out at her but refused to play her game.

“I would give you the option of letting me pass amicably instead of encouraging me to switch you on to the night shift for a month.” Much as he wanted to stay in her good books Madara had too much pride to beg for something so simple. Too much pride in general, some would say, but he’d never cared about other people’s opinions before and he wasn’t about to start now.

Her feral expression of glee fading away in to a scowl, Touka stepped back with a low grunt and jerked her head in such a way he could tell the offer would not last long. If he didn’t step through now she would find something to match his threat with and he knew whatever it was he wouldn’t like it. A smart man would step through the door. Madara couldn’t say he was as smart as the man downstairs but he did step past his hostess and hurry down the hall to the basement stairs without making any more fuss.

Just like each of the few times he’d been here he walked with extreme caution, wary of touching even the door itself as he knocked and very carefully opened it to let himself in. Tobirama looked up from where he sat at the section of countertop filled with notebooks.

“I could swear I hadn’t even been here that long,” he said with a note of questioning hesitance. Madara smiled as he made his way across the room.

“Not very long at all. I just thought I’d make sure you haven’t rolled your eyes right out of your head.”

“_Ugh_.” As soon as he was close enough Tobirama leaned back in his chair to rest his head against Madara's chest. “If I had known Susumu’s sense of humor included that sort of idiocy I would never have let you talk me in to going.”

Madara wrinkled his nose with sympathy. “Even I didn’t think she would have the gall to invite your father.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what possessed him to accept! Or to drink that much! One would think the man a fish for how much alcohol he consumed today!”

“Perhaps he was uncomfortable surrounded by so many of my clan?”

Tobirama snorted. “Would you drink even a drop if there were that many people around who you didn’t trust?”

“Good point.”

Shaking his head, Tobirama half turned in his seat to rest an ear against Madara's breast as though listening for a heartbeat, something he would have never done if there were even Touka in the room with them. Madara resisted the urge to puff himself up with pride that he was allowed these moments of softness.

Feeling a little daring, he lifted one of his hands to hesitantly fiddle with the pale locks crumpling against his robes. He curled his toes with joy when Tobirama hummed and paused what else he was about to say in favor of letting out a low rumble of pleasure, almost a purr. With bolstered courage Madara ran his fingers through the man’s hair. It was softer than he’d expected it to be but what he enjoyed the most was the tension in his husband’s neck that told him Tobirama was putting some serious effort in to not abandoning all dignity and nuzzling back against him like an overgrown cat.

“You were saying?” he murmured after a few minutes, amused but also slightly guilty for derailing their conversation.

“Hmm I was saying nothing. Don’t stop.”

“No, I believe you were saying something about your father?”

“Don’t recall. I’ve never met the man in my life. Just a little to the right – yes.”

Madara cocked an eyebrow but said nothing, only smiled and kept scratching his fingers along Tobirama’s scalp just to listen to the various humming and purring sounds that escaped him in a broken stream. Evidently he had found the man’s weak spot. The two of them passed a pleasant five minutes or so indulging themselves in their own ways before Madara reluctantly stopped scratching, petting gently to appease Tobirama when he opened his eyes to glare playfully.

“You were saying?” he repeated himself, prompting Tobirama to sigh.

“I…may have forgotten. What were we talking about?”

“Butsuma and your family’s apparent predilection for drink.” Madara was aware of the judgement in his voice but he didn’t take it back. Just under eight months in this place and he’d already born witness to all three members of their family in a drunken stupor.

“Ah. Right.” Tobirama closed his eyes in exasperation. “To be perfectly frank I think the only reason he showed up was in an attempt to make _your_ father look a fool. He’s not a nice man but he’s always been able to schmooze when he wants to. After his remarks at the meeting I think perhaps he figured out why Tajima’s behavior has been so strange lately and he attended the party thinking he could make himself look the better man.”

Madara looked down at him dubiously. “How so?”

“By proving that he can get along with others in your clan. I believe he’s trying to show himself to be the opposite of Tajima with all his sneaking about and underhanded plans.” One pale hand lifted to tilt back and forth. “Not a great effort, they’re still about the same in my mind, but the thought was there.”

“Not a great effort indeed. Maybe he would have gotten along with some people if any of them had remained sober enough to speak.”

Madara preened when Tobirama let out a single bark of laughter, such an unfettered sound gifted to him with no sign of self-consciousness. Every small little bit of himself that Tobirama opened up for him to see was like another mountain climbed on the admittedly rough journey of getting to know each other.

“It’s not the other people who should have stayed sober enough to speak. Truly Butsuma should be making his prayers of thanks tomorrow that his words were too slurred for anyone to understand what he was trying to say.” The scorn in his voice would have been obvious enough even if he hadn’t followed it with a scoff that sounded like it must have scraped his throat on the way up.

“Whatever it was I think I’m a little angry with him.”

“Oh?”

“I’m fairly sure I heard Izuna’s name in there somewhere and I do believe I take a brotherly sort of offense to that. Only I get to disparage the little idiot like that.”

Tobirama leaned forward to scrub both hands through his hair before standing and organizing the notebooks he’d been rifling through back in to some semblance of order. “I can understand that in the sense that I would want to protect my own kin. On the other hand you’re more than aware of my opinions about Izuna so I won’t both you with that.”

“Appreciated,” Madara grunted.

“Still, it does boggle my mind that he would allow himself to fall in to such a state, to say such things, all in front of the company he came with the intent of impressing. Even if he hadn’t been trying to impress them! I don’t know if you’ve noticed but ever since this village was built both of our clans have been steadily flourishing in each other’s company but our fathers have been slowly…deteriorating, I think, is the word I’m looking for.” When he turned back around Tobirama was frowning thoughtfully. “They’ve both been losing their edge and acting out of the ordinary. I think working with each other is slowly driving both of them round the bend.”

“Now that you mention it…I think you’re right.”

And he was. Thinking about it a little more, Madara was able to think of several examples to confirm that theory off the top of his head and that was enough supporting evidence right there. For whatever reason Tajima and Butsuma were having an incredibly adverse effect on each other the longer they stayed in close proximity.

“This does not bode well for the rest of us,” he murmured eventually. Tobirama sighed and nodded.

“Unfortunately not. If the two of them drive each other mad they run the risk of dragging the rest of us down with them.”

“So what do we do?” Madara asked.

“Bury them in a very deep hole?” Tobirama suggested with a careless shrug, making him smile. Clearly he was not in the mindset for solving all the world’s problems.

Not that Madara could blame him. The hour was late and the day had been long, filled as it was with socializing and wrangling Susumu-sensei whenever she came up with some other ‘fun’ prank she wanted to pull that might actually get her killed. Setting off fireworks in a clan of jumpy shinobi with fire affinities had been the least of her terrible ideas. Madara would have felt sorry for himself having to play the adult again as he did every year for his teacher’s birthday but it was some consolation that at least he hadn’t had Tobirama’s job.

Watching over his own drunken father didn’t sound like a very good time. If that had been him there surely would have been several other insults given.

“At some point we’ll need a better plan than burying them in holes or whatnot. If your father’s caught on to the hissy fit mine is throwing we’ll probably both end up running damage control when they drag other people in to this mess with them.” Inevitable, really, and not at all what Madara wanted to be doing with his time.

“I admit, I’m a little surprised to hear you disparage his intentions so boldly,” Tobirama said carefully.

Madara took a deep breath, arms folding across his chest. “Well he’s got absolutely no reason to be acting like this. Somehow he got it in his head that Butsuma is intentionally trying to phase him out or something but he’s jumping at ghosts and everyone knows it. The rest of us are trying to build peace and what he’s doing is only going to tear it down instead. I don’t appreciate that.”

He watched the shadows dancing in Tobirama’s eyes, wondering what thoughts were ticking away inside that brain of his. Until now they had mostly avoided the topic of whether or not he approved of his father’s actions; it was probably Butsuma throwing his own hat in the ring as well that prompted Tobirama to open the conversation. With so much time to mull the situation over Madara had come to the conclusion that if Tajima moved against what Konohagakure stood for then he would not stand with the man, he would not support anything that threatened what they’d all fought so hard to nurture and grow.

And he would not support anything that threatened to take away the happiness he had now with Tobirama. Their marriage wasn’t something he had chosen for himself but it was something he would fight to keep now and not just out of duty. He cared for his husband. Even if what way he cared was something he had yet to define that didn’t matter, this was something he knew he didn’t want to lose.

With that in mind he unfolded his arms and reached out to tug on his husband’s sleeve until he earned himself a warm hug, mumbling in to the strong shoulder he had discovered he very much enjoyed resting his face against.

“I’ve already chosen where my loyalties lie,” he murmured. Tobirama held him a little tighter.

“As have I.”

“Good. Right. Glad we agree on…being loyal. And things.” Madara cleared his throat and nestled in deeper. “Anyway, I just came to make sure you were alright and that you hadn’t boiled your own head with shame over Butsuma’s actions today.”

From above there came a motion he assumed to be Tobirama shaking his head. “He’s not worth such an effort.”

“You’re really not fond of your father at all, are you?”

“As far back as my memory goes we haven’t said a kind word to each other that had no ulterior motive. I don’t think Butsuma ever wanted children for any purpose other than to breed more soldiers.” He shrugged as though the idea meant little to him and Madara supposed he would be used to it if that was how he had grown up.

He and his own father had been close once upon a time and the memory of that still reared its head every so often when he thought too much on how far they had drifted apart. Some part of his heart, well buried and pressed down deep, still carried a remnant of the love he once felt for his father. It was those parts that cried out with a deep-welled sadness every time he looked in to Tajima’s eyes and saw nothing but the same bland regard the man had for all his soldiers, every time he faced the fact that inevitably there would come a time when he had to follow through with this choice he had made.

The other parts of him, the petty parts that were never buried very deep, rejoiced in a sharp kind of triumph to know that someday Tajima might know what it felt like to be rejected by the ones that should have loved him unconditionally.

“Should we take bets on which one of them does something stupid next?” Madara asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Gambling is more my brother’s area – though if I had to guess I would say your father will not be happy when word of this gets back to him. Some form of retaliation can’t be far away.” Tobirama sounded exhausted by the mere concept and Madara realized that perhaps he should move the conversation somewhere else entirely.

“It is getting rather late. Guessing games can wait for later, I suppose. Will you come home?” He pulled away just enough to peer up through his eyelashes in what Izuna had once told him was a devastating look. Whether that was true or not he could tell that he at least had Tobirama’s full attention.

After a pause in which he swallowed thickly and looked away, Tobirama nodded. “Home sounds good. I’m sure I can find something to fill my time for a few hours; I find I’m not tired enough for sleep just yet. Are you going to bed soon?”

“Soon maybe,” Madara admitted, “but not quite yet though. With all the socializing today I never got my workout in, I was planning on running through a few drills in the backyard. Nothing more than a few katas but it’s better than inactivity.” He paused to see Tobirama’s eyes light up.

“Oh? Would you mind some company?”

With his eyes open just a little wider than their usual squint and his brows lifted ever so slightly he looked almost like an eager puppy waiting to hear that he’d been a good boy, the mental image of which nearly caused Madara to burst out laughing. It took a few moments of nibbling his bottom lip to contain himself before he could nod. Despite having been getting along well for months now they had yet to see each other in action more than the tail end of a spar or two, usually when one of them faced off against Hashirama and the other came seeking him for something. Other than the one fight he had witnessed between his teacher and his husband, of course. That had been something on the order of a religious experience.

Madara knew his smile was a little soppy, a little too warm, but he couldn’t help himself and for once didn’t bother to try as he stepped away and tugged on his husband’s sleeve.

“I would enjoy that,” he said. “Now we’ll really know each other. I always say the best way for shinobi to truly know a person is to meet with them in combat.”

“Then I look forward to learning more about you.” As he spoke Tobirama reached out to pull Madara back to his chest. Then he brought his hands together and made a sign Madara didn’t recognize. A split second later they were gone from the lab, standing now in the middle of their bedroom without so much as a blurring of worlds. Madara blinked around himself in wonder.

“You have _mastered_ the Body Flicker. I didn’t even feel us moving!”

“Ah, that’s because I did not use the Body Flicker. That would be the jutsu Izuna must have told you about from our mission together, the one I invented for myself. I call it the hiraishin. Brother declared it a forbidden jutsu due to the necessary chakra control and the, ah, consequences of not meeting those requirements.” Tobirama shifted like he was experiencing the phantom pains of an old memory, stepping away to rifle through their closet for clothing more appropriate for moving around in.

Madara gaped. “You really do invent your own jutsu!”

Rather than preen or brag as he expected the man to do, Tobirama gave one solemn nod as he pulled out an old threadbare shirt. It wasn’t until he was moving out of the room to go change that Madara caught the shadow of a smirk around his mouth and knew he was only playing at being humble.

The two of them took turns changing, Madara distracting his misbehaving mind from imagining things by running through which sets of kata would be best today. Yesterday’s workout had been mostly cardio so probably something to help tone his arms with a bit of ab work thrown in. Tomorrow he could work on his legs and call it intentional that he’d split the entire routine over three days instead of the truth that village life was making him a little bit lazy just like everybody else.

When they were both ready he grabbed a few of the water canteens he kept in the fridge and brought them along outside where they moved to opposite sides of their yard to stretch. Trying to concentrate on his own movements when Tobirama was only a dozen feet away contorting his body in to all sorts of interesting shapes was possibly one of the hardest things Madara had ever done. As well as he had hidden it and as much as he still believed in the culture he was raised with he couldn’t help but admit to himself that he was _tempted_ sometimes. There was really no denying that Tobirama was an attractive man, something that made it a little difficult sometimes for Madara to sort out how he actually felt about his own desires.

Separating his bodily yearnings from what his heart wanted was hard when he’d never really felt either of them this intensely for anyone before. He had found other people attractive, sure, and he had obviously wondered what certain intimate activities would be like when he was alone with no one to see the shame of his wondering but with others it had been more of a curiosity, an ephemeral ‘someday’ that he would find out when it was his time to do so. With Tobirama it was different. That someday felt much too far away, a chaffing restriction, and the curiosity fairly burned in his veins each time he caught a glimpse of more skin than usual.

Looking over at his husband from the corner of one eye, Madara bent in half and pressed both palms flat against the ground while he wrestled through the same problem that had been plaguing him for days now. Was the attraction so overwhelming just because Tobirama was _that_ attractive and they lived in such close quarters? Or could all of these undeniable emotions building inside him truly be called love, making this attraction only an extension of his heart? If only there was some defining factor that would help him figure out the difference.

“Ready?” Tobirama’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, hurrying to bring himself back to a more normal standing position and nodding as he realized he’d been going through his stretches on muscle memory alone without paying any real attention.

“Are we sparring?” he asked. “Or just…”

“Considering both of our abilities I would say we don’t have room here for a proper spar.” His partner sounded disappointed by that, actually, which made Madara feel a little better for thinking the same.

It would have been fun to see if he could go all out with Tobirama the way he could when he was facing off against Hashirama. From what he gathered through rumor Tobirama was only less powerful than his brother by the poor luck of not having been gifted the Mokuton, otherwise they were fairly evenly matched. At some point he was determined to have a proper spar between them.

“Take me through your usual routine,” he insisted instead. What he knew of Tobirama’s style was wildly different than his own, focusing more on speed and precision than brute strength.

“Are you sure?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

“Just remember those words for later.”

Madara scowled a little and huffed at the man for treating him like glass. He was as much a shinobi as anyone else in this village and there was no reason he shouldn’t be able to keep up with any workout.

Or so he thought.

Within half an hour he wanted nothing more than to eat his own words and call mercy, held back only by his pride. The muscles in his legs burned with an almost mocking sort of irony that he hadn’t meant to focus on them at all. His arms screamed at him to slow down while his heart did it’s best to beat him in to submission just trying to keep up with the quick movements he was forcing himself through.

He’d known Tobirama was fast. Apparently his idea of fast was the dust in Tobirama’s footsteps because his husband could _move_ – and this was only training! More curious than ever to see the man in real action, Madara covered his huffing and puffing as best he could so he wouldn’t look foolish. If he incorporated a bit of these high-paced katas in to his own routine it would be no big deal within a few weeks. Right now his body was screaming at him for throwing himself in to new movements he wasn’t used to so intensely without any buildup.

By the time Tobirama finally slowed his body and allowed them both to rest he was wearing only a light sheen of sweat across his brow and Madara was very seriously considering drowning him in the nearest koi pond.

“Would you like to take me through your routine?” he asked eagerly. Madara snarled.

“No. But only because I don’t want to! Not because I’m tired!” The wobbling of his knees belied his words a little but after a quick glace Tobirama, mercifully, said nothing.

“Very well. I do feel like I’ve had a good workout, so perhaps it would be best not to overwork ourselves. Tea?”

“Gods yes.” Wobbling over to the engawa, Madara snatched up the canteen he had brought out for himself and uncorked the top, nearly missing his mouth entirely in his eagerness to replenish all the water he’d just sweat out.

Tobirama was kind enough to wait until his legs weren’t shaking quite so badly before he suggested Madara go shower while the tea was being prepared. Never in his life had Madara been so grateful to have someone else telling him what to do. His mind was entirely emptied by an exhaustion he hadn’t felt since he was young and untested, fresh to the training fields and only just learning what it was like to push his body to the limits. Over the years he had settled in to his own style and forgotten what it felt like to stretch his muscles in new ways.

Showering was an ecstasy he appreciated more even than the tea, hot water pounding down on his aching muscles while he sat on his rump and offered praises to whoever invented indoor plumbing. Getting up to turn the water off felt like climbing a mountain but he was rewarded for his efforts once he was out and dried and dressed, quickly finding himself tucked away in to a corner of their living room couch with a blanket over his lap and a steaming mug of perfectly steeped tea in his hands. With Tobirama very carefully sitting as close as possible it felt like huddling under a kotatsu together only more comfortable.

Kami but his thoughts could not help going off in all sorts of sappy directions this evening.

“Thank you for the tea,” he mumbled just for something to say. Tobirama leaned in to him a little more and hummed.

“Bed afterwards?”

“If I don’t fall asleep here. You’re warm.” His words came out almost accusatory and Madara refused to take them back, feeling a little indignant. What right did Tobirama have to be so easy to cuddle with no matter where they sat?

He flushed to receive a light kiss on the temple for his efforts. “We do have a blanket already,” Tobirama pointed out. “There’s nothing wrong with falling asleep here if you’re comfortable.”

After such a full day of socializing, corralling his wild-child teacher, soothing the ruffled feathers while Tobirama corralled Butsuma as well, adding so much exercise that he wasn’t used to left him feeling much more drained than he expected. Though he wasn’t about to admit it, there was something almost romantic about being allowed to fall asleep on the couch with his husband after a long day together.

Complaining a little just because he didn’t know how to show how much he appreciated it, Madara let Tobirama adjust them both so they were lying down. A clone was sent to bring their teacups to the kitchen while Tobirama fluffed the blanket to cover them both and then Madara found himself held tightly between two strong arms with his face pressed up against a chest that still smelled faintly of sweat.

“You’re going to stink in the morning,” he grumbled.

“I could get up and go shower.”

“No moving.”

“Ah.” Tobirama’s voice sounded amused but he refused to look up and see the smirk he knew the man would be wearing. “Then I suppose we’ll both survive my morning stench. Goodnight Madara.”

“Hmph.”

Only when they had both closed their eyes and let their heartbeats even out, when he was sure Tobirama has fallen asleep, did Madara shimmy around to look up at the peaceful face of his husband and murmur quietly, “Sleep well.”


	26. Chapter 26

Sitting in a room with Butsuma and Tajima at the same time had always been a little stifling even before this stupid little feud between them really started. After the events at Susumu’s birthday party and the rumors that flew from one end of town to the other before the day was over, sitting in a room with both men now felt downright suffocating even with dozens of other bodies between them.

Even worse, every body filling in the spaces around the council table now understood the tension between the two men who had brought them all together and the group as a whole seemed to have separated in to two different camps. The first camp seemed to find this whole mess shameful and only the chain of command stopped any of them from scolding either Butsuma or Tajima. The second camp found the situation nothing less than amusing in a petty sort of way and seemed eager to egg the two of them on, much to Tobirama’s dismay.

Neither of them needed help being dramatic, he could say that with absolute surety.

He would have liked to say it made the council meetings even more awkward but with so many different personalities and opinions to navigate with each new issue they discussed it was always a circus in that room anyway. Adding the drama of their two founders facing off against each other while trying to maintain a thin veneer of affability wasn’t really all that odd. Not fun, certainly, but not as terrible as it could have been. At least they were pretending to be nice.

Until now all of Tajima’s plans had been flavored with sneaky undertones, back alley deals and spy recruitment, scheming maneuvers he had attempted to undermine his perceived opponent with. Tobirama watched the man stand up and clear his throat and he wondered if Tajima was switching gears entirely or just trying something new to throw them all off.

“Thank you all for being so prompt this afternoon,” he called, silencing the last few voices still quietly murmuring in idle conversation. “We have a lot of things to go over today. There are several updates from my son Izuna about the situation with the Inferno Squad, who are now calling themselves the ANBU apparently, that will be covered in the briefing. Nara-san had concerns about the hospital resources to address. And many other things as well but first there is something I would like to put before the council for review.”

“Please,” Madara rumbled under his breath in the seat beside Tobirama, as had become their usual. “Thrill us.” The two of them shared a smirk until Tajima pulled a form out of the dossier he’d brought along with him.

“I have here a form that I believe the council will find very interesting - and concerning. You will all recall the recent alliance forged with the Land of Iron and the many benefits therein, one of which being the contract signed allowing us to purchase their weapons at prices well below the current market. It was a shock to me then, when I read over the first order form about to be sent and the receipt detailing our enclosed payment." Tajima's gaze slid triumphantly down the table. "My esteemed colleague has made an error, I believe. Did we not agree on five hundred yen per unit?" From the expectant pause it was clear he was waiting for an answer.

Through gritted teeth Butsuma admitted, "Yes, that was the agreement."

"Ah, then you will understand my confusion upon seeing you have written that we are to pay five thousand yen per unit. For such disposable weapons, their quality made to match their purpose, can we be expected to pay such a high price without emptying our coffers overnight?"

Tajima sat back with a haughty look of victory all but dripping from his features, eyes locked challengingly down the table with Butsuma's as though daring the man to climb out of the hole that had just been dug for him. Around the table other members of the council were murmuring to each other with a mixture of shock that such a mistake had nearly occurred and relief that it had subsequently been caught. With each new voice that chimed in to exclaim their surprise Butsuma's spine stiffened more and more in his seat.

Unable to make himself feel surprise, Tobirama checked to be sure no one was looking in his direction before giving in to the urge to roll his eyes, leaning sideways against Madara to express his exasperation without words. He knew the message was received loud and clear when his husband reached across under the table to squeeze his hand and weave their fingers together in support. It was starting to feel like not a single meeting of the high council could be completed without some sort of drama or clash rising between their fathers and it had started getting old a long time before now.

"I hardly think one error in paperwork constitutes a state of emergency," Butsuma growled, "I will rewrite the receipt. Let us move on." He clearly did not enjoy the condescending smile his rival sent him for his words.

"Rest assured that I have already fixed this error before it could cause us harm. The order is well on its way to the Land of Iron with a properly written receipt."

"Then I do not see the point in mentioning it."

Of course he knew why it had been mentioned, Tobirama was sure of that, just as everyone present was probably sure why it was mentioned. Tajima was only too happy to smile at him like a viper smiles at its next meal. "There can never be too many cautionary tales for how such a simple mistake may cause so much damage. To our reputation, to our coffers, to any future contracts made with the Land of Iron."

Halfway between them, Tobirama wondered whether anyone would notice if he simply disappeared from his seat.

"It is good that you caught this before it could come back to bite us," the Yamanaka heir spoke up. Against all physical odds Tajima somehow managed to puff himself up even more.

"Yes, I rather thought so."

"Truly you and Butsuma-sama make an excellent team."

"What?" Startled to have someone else included in his compliments, Tajima's voice came out as a flat demand. Miraculously Yamanaka-san didn't seem to notice.

Smiling in what he clearly believed to be an encouraging manner, the younger lad sat forward with an earnest expression. "With both of you here working together our village will accomplish every goal we set for ourselves, I'm certain. We are incredibly lucky to have the two of you working side by side; you complement each other so well."

Half the room was forced to hide their smiles behind hands and sleeves or a well-placed fan as Tajima's expression soured comically and, across the room, Butsuma mirrored him almost exactly. In his own seat Tobirama tightened his grip on Madara's hand until he was sure both their knuckles must have turned white from the pressure. Petty laughter bubbled up in his throat but he clamped his teeth and refused to let it out. How the Yamanaka heir managed not to notice the obvious tension between their two founders was beyond him but for once he decided he could celebrate a little stupidity if it gifted him with such a golden moment as seeing Tajima gnash his teeth like he was doing now.

Whether his plan had been to pull Butsuma down, raise himself up, or both, this certainly wasn't the result he had been hoping for. Instead of distancing himself from his rival, not only had he been compared and found equal but had been deemed only part of an essential whole. Never had the rage of another human being been so satisfying to witness.

"The floor is open for other discussions," Tajima declared icily. He seat in his seat with rigid purpose and set his gaze stubbornly on the notes he had brought with him. If Tobirama had to guess he would have said every one of those documents was to be further proof of Butsuma's incompetence, abandoned and unnecessary now that the man was too angry to speak without shaming himself with another screaming match.

Around the room each of those who had hidden their smiles before were forced to do so again as Butsuma stood for a moment with indignation still clinging to his face and invited the Nara clan head to lead their discussion about hospital funding. Both he and Tajima refused to look at each other for the rest of the meeting even when they were required to interact, preferring to make their address to the empty air beside each other's heads. It was both hilarious and embarrassing to watch them act like such children but those who took note of their behavior were not surprised in the least.

No matter how entertaining the idiotic shenanigans between them were becoming, however, they were all there for a specific purpose and it wasn't long before a serious mood had once again fallen over the meeting while they discussed which new trade agreements or fundraising opportunities they could pursue to budget in a research division for their growing hospital. Even Tajima eventually gathered himself enough to take part, though he did refuse to comment on any topic Butsuma happened to be leading.

For his own part Tobirama found it quite hard to keep his concentration on the issues at hand when all he wanted to think about was the warmth in his palm where Madara had yet to separate their hands. Hidden out of sight beneath the table where he wouldn't have to worry about flaunting their relationship so unprofessionally during a serious meeting, he could even feel a strong thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand. Was it absent? Purposeful? He couldn't tell but the mystery of it occupied him so thoroughly he nearly missed having his opinion asked on something - and he couldn't even find it in himself to be ashamed of his inattention. Not when the distraction was Madara.

The meeting lasted only a short while longer than usual but it was enough that Tobirama found himself viscerally disappointed, left with less time before the end of the day and forced to stay late to finish several things instead of going home with his husband as he had planned. After spending several hours trading soft touches and gentle squeezes it was an unwanted reality check to watch Madara head off at Hashirama's side after work while he stayed behind at his desk with several urgent scrolls awaiting his attention. Having spent at least twenty minutes of that everlasting meeting planning out a nice dinner they could have together he was understandably irritated even before he pulled the first scroll towards himself, unrolling it with a bitter scowl, and told himself that he wasn't jealous of his own brother. Not at all. Just because they were best friends and Madara had seemed delighted to be invited over for hot pot didn't mean there was anything to be jealous over.

Other than the fact that he was stuck here at work while others were treated to Madara's company in a relaxed environment where he might have been bold enough to weave their hands together again.

It felt like it took twice as long as it should have for him to get everything done for the day and make his escape. Every time he thought he was ready to go someone else stopped by and dropped a new problem in his lap or sent a bit of paperwork back with new suggestions that needed addressing. The longer he stayed the more Tobirama despaired of his own brain and how much advantage their leaders took of it. Out of all the people who worked in the tower he was probably the one with a hand in the most projects at a time even if he wasn’t the lead on all of them.

Eventually he was able to declare himself ready to leave before anyone else showed up with more work, although he ruefully noted that there weren’t many chakra signatures left in the building to do so, most people other than the security team having packed it in an hour or more before. He slipped away just as one of his office mates came back but refused to look them in the eye in case they tried to speak with him about something that might hold him back even longer. Seeing Madara again and sneaking in as many kisses before bedtime as he could was much more interesting than any sanitation dispute or road planning project could ever be. If he had to drag the man away from Hashirama's house then he would.

At least that was his intention until he stepped through the door to the scent of hot pot thick in the air and his stomach set up a raucous protest of any plan that did not involve finding the source of that delicious smell. Following his other senses led him in to the kitchen where his husband, brother, and his brother’s wife all sat around the dining table with half empty bowls. Madara's expression was only mildly curious upon seeing him but the sensation of warm chakra bubbling and happily reaching out for him was nearly enough to stop him in his tracks so he could melt in to a disgustingly happy puddle. He wondered if the man even realized he could feel such reactions and if he should mention it or just keep this pleasant little nugget to himself. It wouldn’t do to embarrass Madara in to containing himself in the future.

“There is still food on the stove if you are hungry.” Mito invited him to serve himself with a graceful wave of one hand. With a grateful nod Tobirama headed to the cupboards for a bowl, brushing his hand subtly against Madara’s sleeve on the way by. It wasn’t the kiss he had wanted but that could wait until he wasn’t distracted by the ravenous hunger in his belly.

“Long day?” Hashirama asked as he portioned out a large helping. “I’m surprised you’re only leaving the office now.”

“Every time I tried to escape someone else had a new emergency for me to solve.”

“The price of being indispensable,” his brother teased gently.

If there was one thing that Tobirama appreciated about his brother it was that Hashirama understood his own intellect and had never experienced any jealousy for having a brother that could think circles around him from a very young age. He seemed quite glad for it, actually, and many times expressed his embarrassed gratitude that so many things were piled on Tobirama’s shoulders rather than his own, more than aware that there were certain things he simply wasn’t equipped to handle. Being ungrateful for what talents he did get blessed with was simply not in his nature and there was a pure sort of honesty in that which couldn’t be found in many others.

Carrying his bowl to the spot next to his husband, Tobirama sank down and took up his chopsticks immediately with a mumble of _itadakimasu_ under his breath before digging in. Madara shook his head with what he chose to interpret as fond exasperation.

“Don’t let me interrupt whatever you were talking about before I arrived.” Tobirama flicked his chopsticks dismissively but Hashirama only shook his head as well.

“Nothing important. We were just regaling Mito with everything that happened in the meeting.”

Tobirama hummed, chewing through another bite. “I didn’t hear much from either of you today. Honestly Anija, you need to assert yourself more. Sometimes I could almost forget you were there.”

“I get bored!”

“You’ll need to do this yourself when you inherit the clan; you can’t always just let your brain fall asleep in meetings. Honestly.”

“But…” Hashirama wrinkled his nose with a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Tobirama peeked sideways at his husband. “I didn’t hear much out of you today either, which is much more odd than it is for him. Is everything alright?” He was relieved to see Madara give him a casual shrug and a reassuring pat on the knee. 

“Everything’s fine, I just had something else on my mind is all, an idea of sorts, but it’s not fleshed out enough to put it before the council.”

“I don’t supposed you’d like to share with the class?” Tobirama asked.

“Give me a little bit to think it through some more. There’s something just on the tip of my tongue, per se. I know it’s there but I can’t quite figure out…bah, you’ll understand when I tell you about it.” Madara harrumphed a little and looked around the table. “Change the subject. I’m done with thinking for the day.”

From her seat across the table Mito lifted one carefully shaped brow at him. “I wasn’t aware you had ever begun.”

Hashirama flustered his way through trying to scold his wife without insulting her while at the same time diffusing his best friend without making it sound like he was taking sides. Watching the three of them and their dramatics was much more entertainment for Tobirama than thinking about all the meetings. As necessary and admittedly fascinating as he found politics and bureaucracy he’d learned years ago that it was just as important to let his brain turn off sometimes and refresh itself. Oftentimes doing so allowed him to come back to his work the next day with fresh ideas he wouldn’t have been able to come up with in the overworked, frazzled state he saw too much of around the tower these days.

Dinner was pleasant, a nice couple of hours spent catching up with the brother and sister-in-law he should really spend more time with. The evening grew dark outside as they all sat sipping tea around the table. Mito engaged him with descriptions of the seal books she was hoping to have delivered for his birthday while Hashirama and Madara chattered on about some sort of nonsense he tried not to listen to. The two of them had a tendency to get involved in the most random and nonsensical shenanigans when left alone together for too long and Tobirama had decided that not knowing was safer. As long as no one got hurt and he didn’t have to help clean up it was best to just let them have their fun, enjoying their own sort of distraction from work in the form of brief stupidities.

When they finally left it was with full bellies and eyes drooping, ready for sleep after a pleasant evening spent letting the world pass them by. It was nice to return home and wander upstairs together to go through their nightly routines. They had already slipped under the sheets and wrapped around each other when Tobirama blinked as the ceiling with a light frown.

“I forgot to ask you again what you were thinking so hard about during the meeting. Do you still need time to get your thoughts straight?”

“Hm? Oh, that. Actually I suppose you would probably be a good person to help me with it since it’s something you’ve done on a smaller scale for a while now. I was thinking- you know how you train Kagami?” Madara shifted against him but Tobirama was busy frowning up at the shadows above them.

Curious but not seeing where this was going yet he said, “Yes, I am aware of my own student.”

“He only learns from you. Only your perspective, only your jutsu, only when you have the time available after leaving the office.” Twitching, he hurried to add, “Not that I’m saying you don’t give him enough! It’s just…a little scattered to be the norm, don’t you think?”

Frowning a little deeper, Tobirama was forced to nod slowly. “I suppose so. There are many days I wish I had more time to give him. Sometimes I give up my lunch hour as well but that’s not something I can do all the time.”

“Right. And it’s something that’s probably prevalent in all of the clans unless they have someone specifically dedicated to training the younglings.”

“Which would only present the same problems you mentioned before.”

“Yes!” Madara squirmed against him as though so excited by the idea about to burst forth he could not contain himself, a sentiment Tobirama could certainly relate to. “So I was thinking that perhaps the children of Konohagakure could use a more formalized education and it’s been plaguing me for days the best way to do that. Obviously pulling all the seasoned shinobi away from their jobs all the time wouldn’t be a great idea – imagine the chaos of undone paperwork – but then I thought, well, what about an academy?”

Despite the many talks he’d had with himself about this very subject Tobirama could no more stop the rush of heat through his veins than he could have stopped the tides.

“A formalized academy just for training the next generation here in a safe environment,” he whispered slowly.

“Well, that was the idea anyway. I’m not sure if it’s a realistic project or just a pipe dream; I don’t even know where to begin on setting it up. They would need a curriculum of some sort and indicators of passing certain skill levels – tests? And who would teach them? You would know a lot more about all of that than I woul- ah!”

Madara cried out with surprise as Tobirama rolled them both over without warning and bent to ravage his husband’s mouth, unable to hold himself back any longer. One arm took his weight so he could lift the other to cup that glorious, startled face and tilt them together, taking and taking in a way he was always so careful not to do when they kissed. All thoughts of the boundaries he had set for himself fled like smoke in the wind.

Incredibly, he was not pushed away. Rather than toss him across the room for taking such liberties Madara groaned and melted under the onslaught, responding with what fervor he knew, and Tobirama had to suppress the urge to snarl his approval because it would have meant pulling himself out of the moment. With his free hand dancing over the body underneath he almost managed to forget himself until he realized his muscles were tensing with the intention of rolling his hips and pressing just a little too far past those boundaries he had already thrown away.

Both of them were panting a little when the kiss finally ended but Tobirama couldn’t bring himself to pull away more than the inch or so he needed to drop his forehead against Madara's with a dazed look in his eye.

“I have never been more attracted to you,” he blurted, still wrapped up in the surprise that Madara's big idea was to provide a better future for the children of their village. Never had it been so hard to hold back the words he knew his partner wasn’t ready to hear.

“Oh. Um.” Blinking up at him, Madara seemed to flip through a few different expressions before he settled on hesitant interest. “I wouldn’t mind you, uh, expressing that a little more.”

“You-?” Tobirama blinked. That wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting.

Although to be fair he’d had no idea what to expect since he’d been so careful after the night he came home too drunk to restrain the passions that wanted so badly to come out, not when he knew it would be all too easy to place a hand in the wrong spot, to pull at clothing in the wrong way, small gestures that would feel so natural in the moment but would lead to things he knew were off limits. Rather than tempt himself or earn his partner’s displeasure it was better to set a limit and stay on the other side of it. He was very good with limits – sometimes.

His laboratory would tell other stories.

Perhaps, however, there were other variables that he hadn’t considered. Things like the fact that he’d never bothered to ask where Madara had placed his own boundaries. Coming from two different cultures meant he didn’t have a solid idea of what was going on inside that thickly maned head.

“How about,” he murmured, tilting his head to the side and bending to nose at the length of neck exposed to him, “you tell me when you would like me to back off. And maybe also when you might like me to keep going.”

“I think I can do that,” Madara breathed.

Not even the draw of such an interesting new concept or the continuous stress of having to deal with the superfluous feud between their fathers was enough to break through the bubbling thrill of having Madara pull him in again and moan softly at the glide of his hand, playing with the edges of a well-worn sleep shirt without yet slipping underneath it. Tomorrow he would have a lot on his mind but for now all Tobirama wanted to think about was the way Madara's body felt warm underneath him, the way inquisitive fingers traced patterns on his back, and the impossible possibilities that might not be quite as impossible as he’d been thinking they were.


	27. Chapter 27

A formalized academy with structured learning and standard knowledge shared across all the children of the village no matter the background they came from; the very idea of it was enough to curl Tobirama’s toes with joy. That it had been his own husband who came up with the idea only thrilled him even more. Every time he thought he had Madara all figured out the man turned around and gave him something new to consider – and every new piece of the puzzle was more fascinating than the last.

Of course, it wasn’t as easy as asking his brother to raise a new building and piling all the children inside. Before anything else they needed to decide what to teach the little buggers and when, what subjects would match with different learning abilities at what ages. What jutsus should be standard? Should tests be more practical or written? With a formal environment in place it would only be too easy to guarantee literacy and basic life skills for even those children without parents around to teach them such things. Should civilian children be given the same base education so that they understood the shinobi who shared their village or should they be taught in separate classes?

With more questions than answers chasing each other around in his mind Tobirama floated through the new few days with his head practically up in the clouds. Every breakfast and every dinner he let his meal grow cold and ignored the amusement in Madara's eyes as he rambled on about all the new ideas he was considering for this project – and they hadn’t even brought it up with the council yet. Madara had said he wanted a solid outline in place first to convince the traditionalists who would surely cling to the old fashioned idea that clan children should only be taught by fellow clan members. As many strong fighters as that had produced in the previous generations it also made for quite narrow-minded soldiers who were only exposed to one style of fighting and never realized their true potential.

The first time it was brought up with the council went surprisingly well considering how many different voices there were to throw opinions around, though the biggest surprise was the lack of fight from either end of the table. It was a little suspicious, actually, but Tobirama was still riding high enough on such an incredible idea from his own partner that he chose not to be suspicious just this once. Miracles did happen after all; maybe his miracle was letting Madara's brainchild come to life without any drama around it.

Or at least no more drama than the entirety of the village being treated to Tobirama’s overbearing pride at having a husband so amazing and strutting both of them around the village with endless smug expressions. 

It took more than half a week for Madara to finally roll his eyes and tell him to shut up, dragging him out of the house on their day off with instructions to talk about literally anything else for a while. They ended up wandering through the marketplace with Kagami running ahead of them, enjoying a stroll while his student made a game out of trying to find hiding places Tobirama wouldn’t spot him in, training made fun and easy.

For the most part he kept his promise not to talk about the academy that was slowly coming to life in his mind, though Madara did indulge him in a bit of a ramble about how far Kagami had come since they started working together. Beyond that they chatted about whatever crossed their mind as they examined the wares displayed in various stalls or traded the latest gossip about their more lackluster coworkers in the administration tower. Working in so many different circles meant there was always something going on with someone and it was the bread and butter skill of a shinobi to gather information.

Such was their excuse, anyway.

Tobirama was eyeing a passing fruit stand, inspecting for any late season blueberries and wondering if he could convince Susumu to teach him her tartlet recipe, when a hand entered his vision holding out a small basket of the indigo treasures he’d been looking for. Following the delicate fingers up a long arm, he found a half-familiar tanned smile looking back at him fondly.

“Ikuo,” he greeted the man quietly, not taking the bundle. “You must have returned with my cousin. I hadn’t realized.”

“And what an interesting homecoming it’s been. How are you? I’ve heard a lot of rumors but it’s always best to get information from the source.” Ikuo widened his smile and brought the berries he was holding a little closer to his chest with no hint of offense for having his gift rejected.

“Life has taken us all to some interesting places.”

Ikuo laughed delicately and from the corner of his eye Tobirama noticed Madara sidling a little closer, eyeing this strange man with a sharp, narrow gaze. He wondered what his husband saw. Curious, he opted not to introduce them until one showed any interest in the other. He did make a little sidestep to avoid the warm brown hand coming down as though to brush the edges of his sleeve; he’d never been all that fond of casual contact.

“You can’t even give me an open answer? I thought we were closer than that!” Ikuo’s tone was gentle and teasing but there was a suggestiveness in the way he angled his body, an openness in the way he stood, that he had to know Tobirama could read from a mile away.

“We haven’t seen each other in nigh on a decade,” he pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t reconnect, hm? Go on, put my curiosity to rest. Are the rumors true?”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be a little more specific.” Tobirama rocked back to stand a little more on his heel without bothering to conceal the movement in any way.

As he should have expected, Madara picked up on his discomfort immediately and stepped forward with an adorable little frown on his lips. “Sorry, who are you?” he demanded gruffly. Tobirama stifled a smile as Ikuo looked Madara down and back up with lifted brows.

“Senju Ikuo. And yourself?”

“His husband,” Madara growled. Tobirama bit the inside of his cheek to hold in a smile.

A flash of jealousy from his partner was well worth the discomfort of Ikuo’s bold assumptions and twice as amusing when it was followed by a brief moment of disappointment in his clansman’s eyes. He could tell exactly which rumors Ikuo was hoping weren’t true and he was all too happy to let Madara prove that they were.

“I see. It seems that congratulations are in order.” Ikuo bowed, too much of a Senju to make a scene but absent from their culture long enough that he allowed some of his petty frustration to show. “Let’s hope you’re up to the task, Uchiha-sama, I hear this one is hard to keep up with these days. It has indeed been many years since we saw each other but he was quite something even back then.”

“Those days are long behind us,” Tobirama said mildly. He said nothing more but that was all he needed for Ikuo to cough and compose himself a little better.

“Worry not, I won’t intrude myself on you any longer, I know how to take a hint. May your life together be long and happy.” He even managed to sound sincere in his well-wishes.

Madara, obviously, was not convinced. He watched suspiciously as Ikuo bowed to them both and moved to step around them, obviously intending to leave them alone as promised. As he watched the man walk away from them Madara crossed his arms and jutted his chin out obnoxiously.

“What exactly is he to you?” The question was for Tobirama but Ikuo, not quite out of earshot yet, turned back to give him a wink.

“I was his gay awakening. Do enjoy my finest work.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, though if he had the only one he would have gotten would have been the violent twitch in Madara's left eye and the curling of both fists as he strove to keep his temper in check. If not for the encroaching winter season keeping the air cool around them Tobirama was sure there would have been some steam rising from the top of Madara's head.

Allowing himself to feel a little smug over his husband’s reaction, Tobirama turned back to the fruit stand he had been inspecting before and watched Madara in his peripheral vision instead, allowing the man a modicum of privacy to stomp and fluster and glare menacingly down the street where Ikuo’s back had already disappeared in to the crowds. He didn’t seem very satisfied with Ikuo’s easy acceptance of their marriage. Or maybe it was that easy acceptance which angered him, denying him the fight he was so obviously eager to have. Whatever the case it took a few minutes for him to gather himself enough to storm over to the fruit stall and glare up at Tobirama with a pout that worryingly resembled his brother’s.

“I don’t like him,” he declared.

“You know, I think I picked up a hint of that,” Tobirama replied in a light drawl. He noticed the vendor giving him an amused smirk with his change but didn’t comment.

“What the hell did he mean by that?”

“Perhaps we should go somewhere a little more private, hm?” Gently steering them both away, he led his husband off in the opposite direction and leaned over to poke a misshapen lump in a passing stack of crates. “Your henge is decent, Kagami, but you’re not suppressing your chakra enough. Come along and try again.”

Smiling at the sight of his student scampering out of the crate pile to take off ahead of them, Tobirama made sure to entwine his arm with Madara's so the man wouldn’t get any thoughts about pulling away for one reason or another. He set an easy pace and a straight path towards one of the less populated areas of the market where the streets weren’t so choked with people one had to be careful with one’s steps. When Kagami leapt up out of sight on to a nearby rooftop it gave the illusion that they were nearly alone in this hidden alleyway, their only companions a handful of wooden signboards left out to alert passersby that there were indeed a few shops tucked away in this area.

“Ikuo,” he murmured once the sounds of the street had faded a little, “was my first kiss.” Madara stiffened at his side.

“Hmph. I don’t like him. Did you…”

“We were not intimate in that way, no. I was only twelve and puberty was making me curious so I found a boy who looked pretty to me and I asked him to kiss me.” Despite the intentionally casual tone he was using it was easy to see how very un-casually Madara was taking this.

Squirming a little under the weight on his own embarrassment for asking such questions, Madara almost half shouted when he asked, “Did you kiss him a lot?”

“A few times,” Tobirama admitted. “I suppose you could say we dated in a very innocent, young sort of way.”

“I don’t like him!”

“Yes, you mentioned that. More than once.”

“Because I don’t! He- he doesn’t seem good enough for you! And he’s not even really that attractive! And he doesn’t even know you or else he wouldn’t have tried to touch you like that or get up in your face!” Madara snorted, nodding sharply once as though to put a punctuation mark at the end of his rant.

Tobirama really hoped Kagami had found a good hiding spot and wasn’t looking because he couldn’t stop himself from pulling Madara around and bestowing him with the gentlest kiss he was capable of.

“I am a married man,” he murmured quietly. “If he isn’t you then I have no interest in him.”

Both the color and the heat rising in Madara's cheeks could have rivaled flame. He ducked his head with embarrassment, grumbling at their toes that he wasn’t jealous at all. Tobirama opted not to tell him that his jealousy was not only quite obvious but also very appreciated; there was no need to rub salt in any wounds just yet. After a moment of letting that sink in Madara looked to one side with a light huff.

“How do you know that though? You were forced in to this, you didn’t choose me.”

“Perhaps I didn’t then but I would now.” Tobirama smiled when Madara's head snapped up to stare at him, probably trying to determine if he was serious or not.

“You would?”

“I would.”

Looking away again, Madara breathed deeply. “That’s…that’s good.”

“At the time I had no attachment to the event; I wish I had paid more attention on our wedding day.” With a wry shake of his head Tobirama sighed at his own stupidity. “I spent more time memorizing the seals in your clothing than how you looked in it. If there is one regret for how we began it’s that I wish I could remember what you looked like on that day. Your hair was up, that’s all I can recall.”

“Would you like to see?”

“What?”

“BOO!”

Madara and Tobirama both leapt two feet in the air, spinning in place to land in defensive postures, sharp blades appearing in their hands as they readied themselves to fight – Kagami. Smug little Kagami who stood at the end of their brandished kunai and laughed until it seemed like he might be in danger of splitting a seam.

They’d forgotten he was there.

A specific shinobi brand of shame fell over Tobirama that he had let himself get so situationally unaware as to let a mere child sneak up on him yet at the same time he couldn’t help the pride that flooded through his chest. Kagami really had learned so much in the few months they had been training together. No matter how wrapped up he was in his own moment he would have felt someone coming if they had been broadcasting their presence the way a body as boisterous as Kagami’s usually did. The boy had to have been properly suppressing himself as he’d been told and muffling his footsteps like they had been working on in order to get close enough to startle them.

Unable to be angry, Tobirama still narrowed his eyes at the wildly grinning boy while he pocketed his blade. Madara's face seemed to be the major source of amusement so he brought attention back to himself with a hand scrubbing roughly at black curls.

“Well done, Kagami. You listened and employed what I told you to and you waited for the right opportunity instead of rushing in. Excellent. I think that’s enough for today, why don’t you run and tell your mother everything you learned, hm? I can feel her only two streets over by the textile shops.”

Still laughing, the boy turned and hurried off to carry the tale of their shame home. Tobirama wanted to regret not asking him to keep that moment quiet but he knew that the smallest moments could humanize those who stood above others in a clan’s hierarchy. By tomorrow everyone in the Uchiha clan and several outside would know that the two of them had been human for a short moment, so wrapped up in their own romance they forgot the rest of the world. Nothing worked better to bridge the gap between ranks.

“I love him dearly,” Madara grumbled, “but I could learn to hate him a little too.”

“He was only doing exactly as he’d been asked to,” Tobirama offered quietly, though that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. “What did you mean about me seeing…?”

Madara perked. “Oh, I just meant that I remember what I looked like on our wedding day. I took a memory of it. So I could show you if you like.”

“Took a memory of it? With your Sharingan, I assume you mean?”

“Yes.”

“And you could show me?”

Cocking an eyebrow, Madara's lips turned up in a slow smile. “You do remember what a henge is, yes?”

The idea had not occurred to him, though he now realized it should have. Tobirama cleared his throat and mumbled that he was allowed to forget things sometimes too. “I would be very grateful if you would allow me the chance that I missed that day, to appreciate you as you should have been appreciated.”

“Ugh, as long as you quit being so sappy.” His husband wrinkled his nose uncomfortably and a wave of fondness swept over him, leaving him to do nothing more than nod.

Madara's eyes turned distant for a moment as he ostensibly slipped back in his memories to bring up the moment he had captured forever with his dōjutsu. When he came back to the present he disengaged their embrace enough to bring his hands together in a familiar sign, his body disappearing briefly behind a wall of smoke.

When he appeared again it was like all the air around them had disappeared and there was no more oxygen left to breathe. Tobirama’s lungs paused and failed to draw his next breath but for a moment that was fine. He never needed to breathe or blink or beat his heart again as long as he could take this image with him. Madara was, in a word, resplendent. Long hair twisted up in an elaborate top knot, traditional kimono perfectly in place and pinned to accentuate his form, the beautiful face so few people got to see in its entirety bared and blushing under the weight of Tobirama’s awe. Delicate kanzashi shifted with his every movement as he looked down and brushed his fingertips against the sealed fabric Tobirama had been so distracted by the first time he was treated to this vision.

“Jogging your memory?”

“I was a fool to not appreciate you before,” Tobirama whispered. He reached out unthinkingly to trace the shape of his husband’s face, reverence thick in every fiber of his being.

“What’s to appreciate?” Madara grumbled. “It’s nothing more than a change of clothes.”

The answer made him blink and tilt his head. “A change of clothes, a fancy new hairdo, powders on your face if I am not mistaken. This look is a work of art and if I want to appreciate you I will. You look wonderful, anata.”

He only realized what he’d let slip when he saw Madara's eyes widen comically, briefly disappearing behind a wall of smoke as he lost his hold on the henge.

“A-anata?” Madara's throat bobbed in a thick swallow, his lips parted, and then they closed again as he couldn’t seem to think of anything to say. Tobirama cursed himself for a distracted fool.

“I apologize,” he hurried to say. “It’s- I did not mean to say that and make you uncomfortable.”

“Do you…think of me that way?”

“Well…”

Brows folded together, Tobirama looked at his partner with a helpless expression. Of course he thought of the man that way, of course he thought fondly enough to address Madara with pet names and endearments, but until now he had been so careful not to say anything of the like aloud. Closing his eyes, he reminded himself that he had only recently come to the decision that he wanted to let Madara help him set the boundaries between them.

“Does that bother you?” he asked without truly giving voice to his answer. He waited with baited breath until the other man shook his head slowly.

“I wouldn’t say it bothers me, no. Maybe makes me feel a little guilty. You know that I–?”

Tobirama cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m aware of where you stand. What we have is…it’s enough. What we have makes me happy.”

“But you want more,” Madara surmised.

“I do,” he admitted because it was true and there was no point denying it when he had already unintentionally outted himself. “I desire many things but that isn’t to say I had any plans to force you. Perhaps in this we can implement the same rule as in other things, that you tell me if I do something which makes you uncomfortable. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Very reasonable.”

Both of them hung suspended for a few moments, neither sure what to say, and Tobirama found himself wondering if there were an earth jutsu somewhere that might actually make the ground open up and swallow him whole. He made a mental note to ask the Nara and the Akimichi, two clans with a notable amount of earth users among their ranks. The distraction was enough to occupy him while Madara worked through the revelation that his husband felt more than just a budding affection for him, more than the interest of a curious first fall, though he hoped the other still did not realize quite how deep he was in. There was no need to embarrass himself any further than he already had.

Eventually standing in silence grew much too awkward and they began to shift their weight back and forth until Madara huffed and leaned forward in a motion that could more accurately be described as a lunge, butting his head against Tobirama’s chest and throwing both arms around him in a hug more akin to an attack.

“It’s all so confusing!” he growled.

“Feelings always are,” Tobirama agreed, gathering the man in to a tight embrace, grateful his slip hadn’t ruined the day entirely.

“I don’t want my feelings anymore, I’m getting rid of them.”

“Let me know when you figure out how to do that.”

Madara grumbled a bit and squirmed but didn’t pull away and it was nice to know that he was still considered a source of comfort. After a few consoling pats to the back Tobirama gently suggested they leave this little side street and continue on with their shopping excursion. Nothing had to change just because Madara knew more about his feelings now, this didn’t have to make things weird.

When they turned the corner Kagami spotted them from where he was bouncing at his mother’s side and chattering a hundred words a minute while she inspected different bolts of fabric from a young man’s display of silks. As soon as his eyes alighted on them Kagami bid his mother goodbye and rushed through the crowd, ducking under legs and hopping over boxes, just to stand at Tobirama’s feet with bright eyes and a hopeful expression. That was a familiar expression. He could only want one thing with his eyes so wide and hopeful like that.

“Can we train more now please? You guys are done talking about adult stuff, right?” He clasped both hands together and fluttered his eyes until both Madara and Tobirama scoffed at his efforts.

“Perhaps after dinner,” Tobirama bargained.

“Mom!” Kagami immediately turned and hollered back down the street. “Can I have dinner with sensei?”

Looking up to meet their eyes with a questioning glance, the boy’s mother waited for Tobirama and Madara both to nod their assent before giving her child an exasperated yet fond affirmative. Kagami whooped and demanded to know what other shopping they had left, offering to help by running around and fetching things for them, a clear ploy to get them home a little faster. Luckily for him they were willing to indulge his efforts. Why do the work themselves if there was such a willing energy ready to do it for them? Taking advantage of opportunities was practically a shinobi tradition.

Glad to have smoothed their way past a moment with potential for so much more awkwardness than they had allowed themselves to be affected with, Tobirama reveled in the feeling of Madara's fingers reaching for his with no sign of hesitation. Things would be alright between them. He knew very well that his husband cared for him in some sort of romantic way. If it took time to build that romance he was willing to put that time in; he had a little more than four more years, after all, until Izuna would have a reason to start buzzing in his brother’s ear about moving on.

He was so lost in his thoughts of planning out their future together that Tobirama nearly missed seeing Tajima’s face in the crowd as they passed another side street where the man stood half cloaked in shadows, arms folded with the body language of a person waiting for something or someone. As they passed each other Tobirama saw the way Tajima looked at him, saw the way those cold eyes slid down to the hands entwined between he and his husband, then he saw when Tajima turned his gaze ahead to little Kagami so eagerly attempting to purchase an eggplant with the money Tobirama had given him. What thoughts might be hiding in that piercing gaze he could not have said but there was a distinct sort of sharpness that almost made him want to hide his loved ones away where Tajima could not see them anymore.

The next moment a door opened and his father-in-law turned away to enter the building he’d been waiting outside of but as he disappeared from sight their gazes met again and Tobirama felt a stone settle in his gut. Madara tugged on his arm to catch his attention, asking what the matter was, but he held his silence because he was unsure of how to voice his worry. Allowing himself to be pulled back in to a discussion about what to have for dinner that night, Tobirama wondered if he was worrying over nothing.

Or if he should start sleeping with one eye open.


	28. Chapter 28

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Tobirama blinked slowly once, twice, unsure if he could trust that his ears had heard what he thought he’d just heard. His day had been going so well until his father-in-law approached him.

“You are a terrible influence on my son,” Tajima snarled at him a second time. “I do not like what you’ve turned him in to.”

“Madara is not a man so easily influenced.” A lake in winter would have had less ice than Tobirama’s tone, unimpressed with what those words implied about his husband. Whether he had any influence on Madara or not his partner was a man who followed his own moral code and a few months of marriage was hardly enough to change him so drastically. He was the same person now as he had always been. At most the biggest difference would be that he had a few new experiences under his belt.

Narrowing his eyes impossibly further, Tajima took another menacing step forward until their faces were nearly pressed together, looming as best he could with his shorter stature. “Remember your place, boy. Madara is my heir and you are no longer of the Senju line. You are what I say you are – and I say that your influence has made my son rebellious. He’s forgotten his own place since you came in to our lives.”

“What, his place doing everything and anything you tell him to without question?” Tobirama straightened his spine to make the most of those few extra inches between them.

“I am his father. He _owes_ me his obedience.”

“He’s allowed to have his own thoughts and opinions.”

“And he should keep them to himself. Madara will not be clan head until I step down. Both of you should remember that I also have the power to pass leadership of this clan to another if I deem him unfit.”

Tajima lifted one eyebrow as though to drive his point home but Tobirama was having none of that.

“You would be a fool,” he snapped.

He realized in the next moment that he perhaps should have used a bit more tact when Tajima’s face turned white with rage but he couldn’t bring himself to regret saying it. Harsh words against himself were nothing more than he had been dealing with his entire life, easy to shrug off. Speaking against his husband was not allowed. Especially not when Madara hadn’t done anything to warrant such distrust from his own father and clan head.

Nearly apoplectic and rendered silent by it, Tajima could do nothing but splutter ineffectively as Tobirama spun on his heel and marched away, jaw clenched as tightly as his fists. His father’s office was still empty when he passed it, just as it had been when he came up to the top floor to speak with Butsuma about some files he’d been asked to locate, and it was a good thing that no one was there to witness either of their unsightly temper tantrums. Few people in his life had managed to be as insulting as that conversation had just been.

By the time he reached the ground floor Tobirama had reined himself in enough that his face was smooth and presentable for the public once more. He did his best to close out the rest of the world as he made his way out of the tower in a straight line towards the eastern wall of the village where one of the patrol towers had twice as many chakra signatures as usual. Touka granted him one long look when he rounded the corner before eventually nodding, hefting the naginata she always carried with her when she was on duty.

“You’re lucky,” she called at his approach. “The shift just changed over. Where are we going?”

“Anywhere that has enough room for us to grind each other in to the dirt.”

“Right.” Gesturing almost politely with her blade, Touka indicated the path towards one of the open patches of forest outside the village borders where some of the more violent spars tended to take place. It caused less anxiety for the civilians to keep the worst of their stress relief habits as far away as possible.

It chafed not to jump right in to what he needed the moment they arrived at the nearest clearing but Tobirama forced himself to scrounge up just a little more patience. Stretching was important and he knew that. Injuring himself now by jumping in to a spar without readying his body would only increase his frustrations and leave him with even less options with which to vent them. Together he and his cousin loosened their legs and arms, their backs and necks, and even went through a series of wrist exercises because holding one’s weapon would only be effective so long as the hand didn’t cramp and drop it.

Finally after what felt like three times longer than the ten minutes it had actually been Touka returned to an upright position and grabbed her naginata. Tobirama was up and falling in to a ready stance almost before she could turn back to face him. With a cocky smirk she dared him to come at her.

So he did.

Without even having to discuss any rules or limitations they both ignored their combined arsenal of jutsu and other abilities in favor of steel and muscle. Naginata met kunai, calves were blocked with forearms, heels met hips, all without any quarter being given. Teeth gritted and muscles locked, the two of them strove against each other while Touka laughed as she almost always did in battle. Rather than causing distraction Tobirama found it actually helped cool his blood to listen to such a familiar quirk. Anger still simmered just under the surface but it was easier to ground himself here with his favorite cousin and let the sound of her crazed laughter wash away just a little of what Tajima had said to him.

Ducking under a leg aiming for his head gave him something to concentrate on besides the memory of Tajima’s sneer. Twisting to one side and driving a fist towards Touka’s liver gave him something to do instead of tracking the man down and doing the same. Listening to the ring of steel as he diverted the path of the naginata coming at his neck used up the frenetic energy that otherwise might have been used to scream.

Sweat on his brow and muscles singing with the chance to let loose for a while, Tobirama realized that he was still a little bit too emotional when he overextended a punch and found his face down in the dirt with Touka’s weight on his back.

“Yield,” she demanded. He tapped the earth twice because he wasn’t stupid and then rolled over once she released the pressure.

“Again.”

So they fought again. And again. Despite the sweat gathering on her own brow Touka’s grin only grew more and more vicious as the hours wore on. Some fights he won and others she did, mercy granted only when it was asked for, but when the two of them finally tumbled down to their knees together and called that round a tie they were fairly even. Tobirama checked to make sure there were no other signatures nearby before allowing his body to flop backwards and spread out across what was left of the cool grass.

In what was probably a last-ditch attempt to come out the ultimate victor somehow, Touka waited until her breathing had stopped rasping worryingly in her throat and then flopped one arm out to strike him weakly in the chest.

“Take that,” she grumbled.

“Careful,” Tobirama warned her, “or I’ll start talking about feelings.”

From the corner of one eye he could see her shuddering. “My worst nightmare,” she declared.

He had every intention of leaving his threat as just that with no follow through, of not bothering Touka with his emotional upheaval when he was well aware that she handled such things even worse than he did. Those intentions were all well and good until he scowled up at the sky above them and spoke without thinking.

“At least you don’t have Tajima for a father-in-law. _That_ is a nightmare. Every time he opens his mouth I have to swallow the urge to put my blade inside it.”

“Being a dick again?” she asked. Tobirama snorted.

“I am, according to him, a terrible influence on my husband. He wants his own son to be nothing but an obedient slave, never questioning orders and never voicing an original thought! He’d be better off having a _pet_ if that’s what he wants!” His poor heart hadn’t even had time to slow down to a proper steady beat before it kicked off again as he felt himself getting riled up just thinking about it. Already he was itching for another fight.

Turning her head to consider him, Touka hummed. “Or you could teach him how to make your solid clones.”

“Hmph. As if I would waste something that took so much effort on someone like him.”

“Fair enough. He wastes the very air he breathes, doesn’t he?”

Tobirama huff with startled amusement. “Indeed. Honestly I can’t decide if it upsets me more that he cares so little for his own children or that I can’t bring myself to be surprised by it. It’s not as though I had a warm childhood myself. Sometimes Tajima reminds me so much of my own father that I can’t remember which is which.”

“Easy,” Touka mumbled. “The uglier one is ours.”

Blinking slowly, Tobirama looked over at his cousin for a moment as he chewed that over. The moment their eyes met they burst in to laughter as one. With one simple sentence he was doubly glad that he’d chosen to go to his cousin to vent what he needed to, grateful that he hadn’t subjected himself to another one of Hashirama's painfully optimistic pacifist speeches. Sometimes he truly pitied his own brother for still clinging to shadows of the love they had once held for a father that never bothered to return such affection.

After the laughter faded Tobirama struggled to force his body up in to a sitting position and lifted both arms above his head, hoping he could trick his tired muscles in to some cool down stretches. With the chance of a second temper tantrum nipped in the bud he felt much calmer and ready to go home without fear that he might snap and demand Madara explain what the hell was wrong with his father. He would almost definitely be relaying some parts of the incredibly insulting argument but now that he wasn’t so ready to fly off the handle he would be able to phrase his retelling in a less hurtful way – hopefully. Tobirama knew he wasn’t always the best at softening a blow.

Instead of making them both uncomfortable with a heartfelt thank you Tobirama reached out and returned the strike she had landed on him before with a soft thump against one shoulder.

“You can go home now, I’m done with you,” he announced.

“Oh I see how it is!” she grumbled halfheartedly, still not making any moves to get up. “Use me and lose me! That’s nice!”

“I’m not sorry.”

“Good riddance to your worthless hide,” she called out to the sky, lips still grinning with too many teeth.

Nodding once as he struggled up on to his feet, Tobirama offered her a wave in a flippantly dismissive manner. “I hope not to see you at the end of the week. Hashirama's invited us both over for dinner on Friday. Do try not to darken the doorstep.”

Touka swore up and down that she would beat him there and stay until he left, forcing him to cough so he wouldn’t smile. Nothing made him feel quite as content as having all of his precious people in one room for a pleasant evening together. It was nice to know that she could make it as well.

Waved off with a callous “Get out of here!” Tobirama staggered out of the clearing and cast his senses outward as he did so, reassuring himself there was no danger in allowing Touka to rest in the clearing alone until she felt ready to stand again. Clearing the outer walls of the village was a little harder with his body screaming in exhaustion but he still managed – and made a note to have Madara increase the drills for his security squads as he slipped through entirely unnoticed by the ones who were meant to be patrolling this quadrant. Sloppy, very sloppy.

Calm settled deeper and deeper in to his bones the closer he got to home until he found himself almost smiling at the prospect of seeing Madara again. Halfway down the road from their house he stopped in his tracks, all that calm vanishing in an instant and every muscle in his body tensing for a battle he was too tired to fight. Eyes narrowed and fists clenched again.

Tajima was in their home.

Even without his sensing abilities active he could feel that much from where he was, chakra reaching out absently to sweep the area out of sheer habit. Tajima’s chakra was not a welcome one to find in his home. Very few people would be and Tajima was definitely not on that list. Tobirama struggled to keep his face from showing any sort of reaction, only continuing forward when he was sure he wasn’t wearing his intense dislike visibly in any way that might upset Madara before he even had a chance to ask the reason for such an unusual visit. It was hard to recall the last time the man was in their home for anything even slightly resembling a personal visit – or at all. Generally if he wished to speak to his sons he would call them in to his office. Yet another way he and Butsuma were eerily similar.

Stepping in to the house felt a lot like stepping in to a potential warzone with how tightly he was holding his own body but he felt vindicated in his wariness when Madara's voice reached him from where both Uchiha men sat just out of sight in the living room.

“You can’t do that to him,” his voice drifted down the hall. “You can’t do that to either of them!”

“I am within my right and _you_ will remember who you are speaking to.”

“But–!”

Tobirama kicked off his shoes with little care, aware that announcing his presence had paused their conversation. He entered the living room to find that neither of them were sitting as he expected but were standing on the far side of the room facing each other with surprisingly aggressive body language.

“Anata,” he greeted his husband, swallowing down the instinctual shame of being so familiar in the presence of another just for the pleasure of seeing rage flit across their guest’s face.

“Perhaps you have forgotten your manners, _boy_, but it is the elders and betters that one greets first upon entering a room.” Tajima lifted one eyebrow but whatever apology he obviously thought he might get never came. Instead Tobirama remained pointedly silent until his snub was realized.

He would have greeted his betters if only there were any betters here to greet.

Deliberately turning away as though to head in to the kitchen, he was stopped when Tajima spoke again, face pinched white with so much anger it was a wonder his head hadn’t begun to smoke yet.

“This is exactly the kind of disrespect I was talking about,” the man declared, addressing his words to Madara without taking his eyes off of Tobirama. “Is this sort of boorish behavior truly the kind we want rubbing off on our own young? Can we trust him to teach when he is obviously not mature enough to do so?”

“What are you implying?” Tobirama asked in a deathly quiet voice. A hot flash of dread rippled down his spine at the thin smile of triumph that appeared on Tajima’s face.

“You were the one who encouraged this ‘academy’ idea and yet I find it curious that you have not yet volunteered your own student to attend. How are we meant to convince other parents and guardians to allow their children to take part in this _grand new venture_ if you, one of the instigators of the whole thing, will not do so as well? How terribly telling.”

Unable to speak around the horror rising in his throat, Tobirama could see the train wreck coming towards him and yet he could do nothing to stop it as Tajima continued with cruel pleasure.

“As clan head I hereby declare that Kagami _will_ attend this new academy. Let the Uchiha not be seen to distrust the ideas we ourselves put forward. Effective today you are no longer sensei to young Kagami but will instead give your attention to the duties which are already yours as you should have been doing all along. Is that clear?” One jagged eyebrow lifted and Tajima cocked his head, full of arrogance and visibly delighted to have the upper hand.

“I have made my training open and visible,” Tobirama choked out, a ball of desperation inside of him that refused to go unheard even as he watched the light of hope go out before his very eyes. “Not once have I had any dissatisfaction expressed to me regarding my work for the village or my curriculum for training with Kagami – all done during my own time.”

“Which I’m sure you would agree is not nearly enough. I believe it was you would spoke in favor of the academy offering students the chance to form bonds with their fellow budding shinobi and benefit from the exposure to more than just the single narrow views of one instructor.”

“Doesn’t the bond they’ve already formed mean anything?” Madara jumped in.

Still not taking his eyes away from the one he was celebrating triumph over, Tajima scoffed lightly. “What is one bond when compared to the opportunities of standardized education? We wouldn’t want Kagami to fall behind his peers, now would we? I wonder, could your husband live with himself if it was his fault Kagami grew up…lacking?”

Tobirama couldn’t tell if his body was hot or cold but he understood the sensation of panic, sharp and clawing under his skin, railing inside for him to scream the man down because Kagami was _his_, Kagami belonged with _him_, and yet he couldn’t. He couldn’t because Tajima was right that it would be selfish of him to deny Kagami the same opportunities that he advocated so strongly for others. Could he say he cared for Kagami if he was selfishly holding the child back from taking the best paths to support his future?

Feeling as though he had finally discovered the true meaning of helplessness, Tobirama swallowed and forced himself to keep looking Tajima in the eye. It hurt, of course it did, but he refused to allow this man to see him as weak in any way. With his heart beating double time and his eyes burning he lifted his chin with absolutely no expression to give away the inner turmoil battering at his insides.

“If that is Tajima-sama’s order,” he said with an even voice. Madara gaped at him.

“That is my order – and you will obey it.” Despite having won there was still a flash of disappointment on Tajima’s face for not getting the reaction he wanted.

“Kagami will be informed of your decision tomorrow. Will Tajima-sama be staying for dinner?”

As he’d thought would happen, his coldly polite offer was refused with a jerk of the man’s head. “No. Madara, I will see you in my office first thing in the morning. Clearly I have not been strict enough in readying you for the duties of a clan head; I will make a proper heir of you yet.”

He didn’t seem to take note of the way Madara's face flushed with even more anger, jaw working apoplectically yet unable to express how very offended he was, either because he was beyond words or because he just didn’t want to make the current situation any worse. Neither of them moved to see their guest out or even so much as turned their heads to watch him go but Tajima chose not to comment on such rude behavior. He had what he had come here for.

In the wake of his destructive visit Tobirama felt almost like the ground were moving and swaying under his feet. Until their partnership was threatened he hadn’t truly understood how deeply he’d bonded with Kagami and now he would lose that. Not entirely, of course, because Kagami would still be welcome in their home anytime should he choose to come visit, but it simply wouldn’t be the same. No more afternoons spent imparting his wisdom, no more hours watching with pride as he helped to shape Kagami in to the man he knew the boy would grow to be. In their place would be the cold distance of a relative watching from afar and commenting with each visit how much the boy had grown since last they spoke.

“Tobirama?” A hand appeared on his arm and when he blinked the sandy feeling in his eyes told him that he had perhaps been staring off in to space without blinking for too long.

“He…I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was I. Come, sit down.”

Madara pulled gently until Tobirama allowed himself to be gathered on to the sofa, loose-limbed and doll-like in the way he allowed his husband to manipulate his body. In short order he found himself tucked in to one corner with a blanket around his shoulders and a gentle hand carding through his hair. The sensation was soothing but not nearly as distracting as one might hope.

“We’ll figure this out.”

“There is nothing to figure out,” Tobirama declared, quiet and firm. “He’s right. And there is nothing I have in my power to stop him from making such a decision. He is, as he said, head of the clan.”

“But it’s not right!”

“It’s done.” Closing his eyes, Tobirama drew air in to his lungs until he could hold no more, then very slowly let it back out.

Madara snorted and grumbled under his breath but his hand did not falter in its repetitive strokes. “I’ll sic my own sensei on him,” he muttered in a dire tone. It very nearly broke through the haze to make Tobirama smile. Nearly.

For a long time the two of them sat in silence. It was nice to know that Madara was not on his father’s side in this, though it was equally as saddening to know that as time went on his husband lost more and more faith in his own parent. As much as Tobirama thought Tajima deserved no less he still would never have wished to be a part of that. To lose faith in family was a pain he understood all too well, something he would not curse on any but his most mortal enemies, and even though he hated Tajima to the bone he still wished there was a way for Madara to salvage the bonds he obviously yearned for still.

Or at least he would have liked to find a way to keep those bonds alive while also burying Tajima in a deep dark hole impossible to climb out from where he would never be able to ruin another life again.

“He shouldn’t be able to just do this,” Madara said, distracted and almost seeming to talk to himself.

“But he can in the current power systems. There’s no recourse here so just put it down.”

“Well there should be!”

“Madara”-Tobirama’s voice was tired and he could hear it but not fix it-“drop it. Please. There is nothing to be done and talking about it right now will not help.”

Finally his husband’s fingers paused as the man seemed to realize he was only making things worse by letting himself continue to stay worked up. Gentle strokes were replaced with a single soft kiss against the side of his head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. How about you come with me in to the kitchen and I can distract you with nonsense conversation while I cook dinner?”

“Could we just stay here for a little bit first?” Tobirama blinked away the remainder of the fog in his mind, finally looking over at the man beside him. He closed his eyes when Madara granted him a soft smile and brushed the fringe away from his face.

“Of course; as long as you like.”

When Madara tucked up under his chin without another word at last Tobirama was able to find it in himself to smile. It took a bit of shuffling but he managed to twist himself enough for Madara to lay against his chest where he could get both arms around the man and hold tightly to the one thing he hoped Tajima would never try to take away from him.

That was one battle he was prepared to fight until death.


	29. Chapter 29

To say that Kagami did not take the news well would have been one of the biggest understatements Madara had heard in his lifetime. It would not have surprised him to learn that the broken-hearted crying was heard several streets away. Not to say that Kagami had broken down or thrown any sort of childish temper tantrum, he was too attached to his life goal of impressing Tobirama to do such things, but rather than his protests had taken the form of endless shouting; that he wanted to stay with Tobirama, that Tobirama meant so much to him, that he surely wouldn’t learn half as much from anyone else and didn’t want to besides. Watching his husband struggle not to let the pain show on his face had been surprisingly difficult.

More painful than that had been watching Tobirama struggle his way through trying to express how much he didn’t like this either. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that the two of them had forged quite a strong bond in only a few short months but Madara knew his husband was the sort to show how he felt through actions rather than words. Forcing himself to state his feelings out loud for young Kagami to hear must have taken quite a bit of strength.

When it became clear that there was nothing he could do to save himself from the doom of public education Kagami fled their home with shouts that if he couldn’t learn from Tobirama he refused to learn from anyone. Madara watched him go and thought it a small miracle there wasn’t a puddle left where he’d been standing from the sheer amount of tears he had shed. He kept his eyes on the door for a minute or so to allow Tobirama some time to compose himself. Only when he was sure there wouldn’t be any wet eyes in the room but his own did he turned and meet the other man’s despondent gaze.

“It had to come from you,” he murmured, knowing what was running through that genius idiot’s head.

“I broke his heart,” Tobirama said quietly. Madara sighed and stepped over to enclose them both in a tight hug.

“His heart was going to break either way. Best that he hears the news from you and knows that it was not your decision. At least this way he won’t think of it as you abandoning him.”

A shiver ran through the man in his arms and Madara sort of regretted saying that. Now Tobirama would probably spend the next few weeks feeling as though he _had_ abandoned Kagami even though there really was nothing they could do to put things back to normal. As Tajima had said the day before, it was a clan Head’s right to decide what was best for the people under his command. Other than the council as a whole there was no higher power to appeal to and the idea of the haughty members of the council taking interest in the training of one Uchiha boy was laughable, unfortunately. They fancied themselves busy with much more important things.

Unsurprisingly, Tobirama spent much of the day moping. Since Madara couldn’t really blame him for it he chose instead to make himself scarce. He walked Tobirama to the laboratory under Touka’s home and gave as much of a lecture on safety as he had the heart for at the moment, earning himself a glare for the trouble, but he still didn’t understand enough about whatever crazy science went on down there to be sure that a moment’s distraction wouldn’t have catastrophic consequences. As far as he knew that was just how science worked.

Without work to keep him occupied Madara spent a large portion of his morning running here and there taking care of clan business that sometimes slipped through the cracks in favor of the work he did every day at the tower. Already doing his best not to think about what had happened, he was only peripherally aware that something was going on as he scampered back and forth around the compound, seeing the upset faces and hearing the murmuring voices as he passed but never really stopping to ask what was happening until he was passing by Susumu-sensei’s bakery and saw a long wooden spoon waving him in through the window. He scowled to be summoned in such a manner but he stepped inside the shop anyway. It was always nice to see her, he supposed.

“Did they find him yet?” she called over the counter, unbothered with any sort of greeting.

“Find who?” Madara set down the scrolls he’d been carrying around since one of the elders pressed the lot in to his arms and bent over the glass display case to spot his sensei.

Susumu looked up from where she appeared to be hunkered down out of sight. Looking at her, Madara realized he was fairly sure the sign on the door had been turned to say ‘closed’ when he came in, which was odd for this time of day. It was barely noon in the middle of the week.

“The kid. Did they find the kid?”

“What kid? And why are you closed? Kami you’re weird sometimes.” Madara scowled back when his old teacher crossed her arms and glared up at him.

“Kagami of course!”

“Eh? Why would we need to find him?”

Now she rolled her eyes and scooted around with some difficulty until she was on her knees. He wondered why she was bothering when her head barely showed above the counter standing at full height anyway but he wasn’t about to ask any other dumb questions when she was already looking at him like she was trying to calculate how many brain cells he had left.

“Because he’s _missing_,” she said, measuring her words to highlight the judgement in her tone. “He’s gone to ground in protest of being taken away from that husband of yours and no one knows where he went.”

“Wait, what? When? Surely his mother must have some idea of where he’s gone!” Madara wished he could say he was surprised but he really wasn’t. Training with Tobirama had helped calm and refine him in many ways but Kagami was still an impulsive child, probably always would be. Susumu snorted.

“You know his mother, one of those free spirit types that doesn’t care what her child gets up to as long as he comes home at the end of the day.”

He did know, though he didn’t approve. Kagami’s mother loved him as fiercely as any Uchiha might love their child but hers was a parenting style Madara knew he could never get used to. It was simply too distant for his tastes. Were he ever to have children he knew he would be asking questions as soon as the child returned home, wanting to know everything about their day and what they learned and whether they were happy.

“So why is everyone off their heads?” he asked after a few beats of disapproving silence. “Let the boy hide. He’ll come out eventually.”

“Well the issue isn’t whether he comes out of hiding, is it? You do know what that husband of yours has been teaching him lately, don’t you? Before you learn how to kill–”

“–first you must learn how to survive,” Madara finished, dread welling in his soul.

How could he have forgotten? Tobirama had mentioned it several times in passing that after Kagami finally mastered the basic kata and chakra exercises he would need to build a proper base for his abilities, the first real unit of study they began was survival skills. Sure they hadn’t gone nearly deep enough for the kid to live on his own in the wild indefinitely but he had more than enough knowledge to strike out of the village on his own and head for anywhere else in the world. And there was no telling where he might strike out to.

“Do we know for sure if he’s still in the village?” He looked to his teacher, dismayed to see her uncertain expression.

“The Inuzuka haven’t picked up any proper tracks but scent cover is one of the most basic skills and he’s constantly running all over anyway so his scent is all muddled together. Right now I think most people are working to make sure they’ve covered every nook and cranny of the village before they start branching outside of it. Honestly, how do you not know all this? Where have you _been_?”

Glancing over his shoulder at the scroll he’d been carrying around, Madara twisted his face a wry expression. “I’ve been running around all over the place for hours now. Anyone looking at me probably just assumed I knew and was heading somewhere else to look.”

“Mm. That makes sense.” Susumu nodded and Madara dragged a hand threw his hair.

“Right, well, new priority. He can’t have gotten far. I get why he’s pitching the fit but he’ll need to learn that no personal grievance like this should be cause to abandon one’s people.” If he told himself that enough then maybe he would convince himself he didn’t want just a little bit to join Kagami and run away from all of his responsibilities. “Why aren’t you helping out with the search?”

“Oh because I was the one that caused a distraction in the marketplace so Kagami could put the slip on everyone and disappear. I rather imagine several people would like to have some very heated words with me.” Her grin told him she did not regret her actions at all.

Madara stared at his sensei with a flat expression just to make his feeling about that known. Then he spun on one heel, gathered his scrolls, and stormed out of the bakery without another word. Susumu-sensei could be dealt with later when he didn’t have a missing child to locate.

As he walked he stuffed the scrolls in to any pocket he could find in his typical voluminous robes. In the pocket on his left sleeve he actually discovered a storage scroll he’d forgotten he was still carrying around and stopped for a moment to fiddle with that until he remembered how to seal more items inside without dumping out the current contents. Now that he knew what was going on he noticed the people passing him by were all wearing distraught expressions, sparking a little bit of pride in his chest despite the situation. His clan truly cared for each other in a way he was sure other clans could never hope to match.

Considering the man’s skillset Madara's first plan of action had been to seek out Tobirama. Even if other sensors had already been on the lookout there were none who could match Tobirama’s sensitivity or range. That plan was rendered moot, however, when Madara rounded a corner and discovered that his husband had crawled out of the lab all on his own – only to be accosted in the street by Tajima. He hurried his steps as his father’s grew audible over the sounds of a bustling public square.

“-tainted them both!” the man was shouting, much to Tobirama’s obvious offense.

“Spending time with them is not tainting either. I would suggest you try it sometime but I’m sure overexposure to you could taint just about anyone.” Already pale, Tobirama’s skin looked fairly translucent in his rage. His self-control must have been on shaky ground to yell back at Tajima in such a public space.

“You influence them with your uncouth behaviors – and now look at what you’ve done! The boy is missing and it is your fault!”

Madara felt his left eye twitch as he hurried to stand at his husband’s side, all good intentions about making peace between them falling away immediately. “It was not Tobirama who shattered Kagami’s world, father, that was you. In no way is this Tobirama’s fault. We all praised it as a _good_ thing when he took on an Uchiha student, including yourself!”

“I’m allowed to have regrets just like anyone else,” Tajima sniffed.

“Well bully for you. I regret _nothing_.”

“You will live to regret some things if you continue to take that tone with me!”

“Bet I won’t!”

Pinching at the bridge of his nose, Tobirama visibly struggled to regain control of himself. Once he’d managed to reassemble to the clear, stoic expression he usually wore he put a hand on Madara's shoulder and shook his head once as those to declare the fight not worth it.

Already angry, it almost seemed like not getting any further excuse to yell at either of them incensed Tajima even further, his weight shifting as though he only barely caught himself about to stomp a foot.

“You! Aren’t you supposed to be the best sensor of your generation?”

“I am,” Tobirama replied icily, pushing aside the finger that Tajima had shoved under his nose.

“Then why are you not also looking for that boy?”

Madara opened his mouth – and snapped it shut again at a sharp flick of Tobirama’s fingers.

“Have you considered that Kagami does not wish to be found and should be allowed time to process the news? Impulsive he may be but Kagami is loyal; I can guarantee you without any sort of confirmation that he is still within the village.”

“Not good enough,” Tajima said. “I want him found. You _will_ assist in the search.”

“Very well. I know precisely where he is.”

“I knew it! You’ve been hiding him, haven’t you!”

Tobirama lifted one eyebrow in cold judgement. “On the contrary, I did not know he was missing until you accosted me on my way home.”

“But you can sense where he is?” Madara jumped in before his father could offer any other insults.

“I don’t need to,” Tobirama replied in a surprisingly soft voice. “I know my student.”

Completely ignoring Tajima where he stood fuming, Madara scurried along as Tobirama turned away with a short wave inviting him to follow. They both continued to ignore his father when the man trailed along behind them cursing viciously under his breath. Tobirama set an unerring path for the eastern side of the compound where several private training fields had been set up for clan use only, where he and Kagami most often preferred to do their training, and Madara gave some thought to smacking himself in the face for not thinking of that the moment he learned that one half of their duo was missing.

Unsurprisingly Tajima didn’t seem to grasp the connection to where they ended up but he at least kept most of his grumbling quiet enough that Madara could set him out of mind and look around. There were several other people here already, most of them lining the edges of the open field area checking every crevice they could find, and among them was Kagami’s mother. Perhaps she knew her son better than he gave her credit for.

“I see no child,” Tajima snarled from a few feet behind them but Tobirama neglected to answer.

Silently he headed for the single tree that grew in the center of the field, full of burn scars and missing several limbs to show how long it had been since the last time Hashirama made his rounds repairing each of the training areas. With half the leaves burnt off in one spar or another a casual observer might take one look at the tree and dismiss it as a place someone of Kagami’s size might be able to hide in. Each of the branches were clearly visible. He simply wasn’t there. Still Tobirama approached with solemn eyes and tilted his head back.

“Time to come down now,” was all he said. Madara could see that several of the people around were looking over in their direction. All of them were probably just as surprised as he was when Kagami materialized as though from thin air and threw himself down against Tobirama’s chest.

“I-I did it just like you taught me!” the boy sobbed, tears coursing down cheeks already crusted with hours’ worth of salt.

“Yes, you did very well; you fooled an entire clan of adults in fact. But now it’s time to go, understood?”

Madara blinked at the boy and lifted his chin to blink at the top of the tree too. He’d never seen a child master the Chameleon Jutsu before. Paired with frankly impressive chakra suppression and this kid was well on his way to developing some enviable infiltration skills – or he would be if he weren’t also wildly susceptible to his own emotions even by Uchiha standards. That was definitely something he would need to work on.

“Sensei, he said I can’t train with you anymore! Not at all!” Kagami blubbered as the other adults drew closer across the field. Tobirama drew in a slow breath and nodded, visibly working himself up to going over this all a second time.

“It’s been decided that you should enroll in the public academy when it opens and that it would be best to sever this partnership now.” The tightening of his jaw spoke louder than words what Tobirama thought of that and Madara had to admit that he agreed.

He also had to admit that he would have very much enjoyed the chance to punch his own father in the jaw right then as Tajima crossed his arms and harrumphed, satisfaction seeping in to his expression at seeing Tobirama follow along with his orders. But really what else could Tobirama do? To refuse a direct order would be to go against his own clan head who, without a doubt, would accuse him of not having Kagami’s best interests at heart.

“You won’t let him take me away will you?” Kagami asked in a voice so small he could barely be heard. Several of the adults closing in touched their chests and the boy’s mother put a hand over her mouth, dabbing at her eyes with the other.

“Following orders is a part of being a shinobi,” Tobirama murmured.

“But…does that mean you don’t want me anymore? Sensei please let me stay! I’ll be good! I’ll train _so _hard, promise!”

Heart clenching in his own chest, Madara watched his husband kneel down so he could look Kagami in the eye, one arm hovering indecisively for a moment before falling back to his side. “I don’t want you to go,” he admitted softly. “Teaching you has been a pleasure and an honor. But we have our orders and we must follow them even if it is not what we want, yes?”

“Y-yes sensei.” Kagami’s bottom lip wobbled dangerously. It was such a sad little sight that Madara was seconds away from reaching out to draw the mite in to a hug and all that stopped him was Tobirama beating him to it in a fashion of his own, patting him on the shoulder.

“Good. You’ve done a good job, Kagami.”

It was those words, knowing it was possibly the last time he would hear them, that seemed to break the boy. With an expression as though his very heart had been torn from behind his ribs Kagami launched himself forward to wrap both arms around Tobirama’s neck. To Madara's surprise his husband accepted the gesture and held him tightly despite the people openly watching them.

Not just watching. Though his eyes stayed fixed on the spectacle before him Madara's ears were open and alert, listening to the crowd around them murmur and whisper to each other. It was difficult not to let himself chime in or rile them up even more but he was smart enough to understand the difficulties that would crop up later down the road if he did that. Any changes that might be stopped, any decisions that might be overturned, he was all too aware that Tajima would not accept it if he had any reason to believe Madara was in any way influencing these people.

Even keeping his silence was satisfying, though. It gave him a chance to watch the murmurs of the crowd become grumbles, discontent spreading in waves as more arrived to check the area then stop and watch the scene unfold. When they got here there had only been a handful and now there were almost two dozen people milling around and whispering already warped versions of what had transpired so far. Despite the tears still coursing down Kagami’s cheeks and the shuddering of each breath as he fought with himself to stand strong for Tobirama, Madara found it in himself to smile. He wasn’t surprised in the least when the first person stepped forward.

He was a _little_ surprised that it wasn’t Kagami’s mother.

“Tajima-sama,” the young woman called hesitantly. “Is it so necessary to place the boy in the academy?”

“Are you questioning me?”

“I seek only to understand,” she replied, cowed, her head falling low and her steps shuffling backwards.

Her retreat was halted when a young man wrapped an arm around her shoulders and faced their clan head with a tad more bravery. “Do we not, as Uchiha, value our bonds over all else? Clearly these two have a strong kinship already. Would Tajima-sama be willing to explain for us what benefit will come from severing that?”

“I am not required to explain myself,” Tajima hissed. Several of those around him straightened their spines with instinctual rebellion. No shinobi enjoyed being spoken to in that tone, not even by their own clan head.

“You are not required to,” the young man agreed. “I asked if you were willing to. Were it my decision – yes, I understand that it is not, it was only a postulation – but if it were up to me I would think that to separate these two now would only sow discontent between the boy and any who teach him in the future. I lost my own sensei when I was around his age and I resented every adult who tried to instruct me in the years after, always comparing them to the one I had lost.”

Tajima sneered at him and Madara could hear the insult coming even before his father spoke. The young man was one of those who would never rise above the recently proposed rank of genin, something Tajima clearly looked down on him for.

Catching on to the conversation around them, both Tobirama and Kagami were looking up from their embrace now, arms still loosely wrapped around each other but eyes locked in on the discussion of their fate. A heartbreaking sort of hope that expects to be crushed shone in Tobirama’s eyes and Madara, for the first time since he was a child, quietly offered a small prayer to whatever gods were listening.

“Luckily for the good of the clan, larger decisions are left to those of us who are prepared to handle them.” Tajima lifted his chin an inch or so and Madara wanted to sigh for his behavior.

“Is he not too old?” Finally Kagami’s own mother stepped up to speak in his defense.

“Old?”

“Yes. Word of this academy is everywhere and many parents are excited about the prospects for their own children so we trade what rumors we hear, of course. But if the rumors are correct then Kagami has already reached the age you hope for children to graduate and move on to a more personal teaching experience anyway.”

“The teams,” Tobirama could be heard to murmur softly, a moment of realization.

Seeing his chance, Madara hummed as though deep in thought. “Weren’t we going to set them up in teams of three, each to be assigned an adult willing to pass on their experience?”

“If so then I should think Tobirama-sama more than qualifies. He is knowledgeable, skilled, and he has already shown himself to be willing.” Kagami’s mother sniffed at her own clan head dismissively. “What harm could it do for them to continue training alone until other members can be found to form a proper squad?”

Were it somehow not obvious before that Tajima was angered by this whole mess it would have to be now as his face grew redder and redder with every insolent sentence spoken to him. He looked like a child younger than the one whose life he sought to uproot, moments away from the most epic temper tantrum of his life. It was singularly embarrassing to watch and yet none present were willing to make themselves look away as he continued to shame himself by standing in the hole he had dug and refusing any offers of help getting out.

“Yes,” he was forced to grind out. “That is the age we had discussed as a graduation objective.”

“Perhaps it would help us all understand if we simplified the situation,” the woman said. To Madara's disgust his father openly rolled his eyes to such an agreeable statement.

“Go on then.”

She nodded graciously with more manners than he had shown her thus far in return. “In the end we all have my son’s best interests in mind, surely.”

“Yes, surely,” Tajima growled.

“Would it truly be in his best interest to rip him away from the one person who has shown interest in his development after so many in our own clan passed him over as too hopelessly energetic to ever make a fine shinobi? Is it in his best interest to give him the impression that forging bonds with the elders he is supposed to trust leads only to pain?” Canting her head to the side and staring her superior down with the steel spine of a mother scorned, she lifted both eyebrows and said, “If there is anyone here that has my son’s best interests at heart it is Tobirama-sama and if that is truly your goal then it is my opinion that they should be allowed to continue training together before their separation has a detrimental effect on Kagami’s growth.”

Never in his life had it been more difficult for Madara to resist the urge to applaud someone. Her speech itself was impressive but the paroxysms of fury crossing Tajima’s face were worth at least one deep bow for her incredible accomplishment. Red enough to be mistaken for a ripened cherry, Tajima’s face folded in to the deepest sneer he was capable of and sucked in a breath through his nose as he gave one very slow nod.

“Fine,” he hissed. “Let them continue to train. And do not cry to me when every other clan in the village questions how the Uchiha can be so boorish as to not support the ideas that we ourselves present to the council.”

“I should think the dozens of other Uchiha children who will be attending the academy would silence any talk of that,” Tobirama spoke up finally, standing up and keeping one hand on Kagami’s shoulders, supporting him while he wiped furiously at his unceasing tears.

“You–!” Tajima puffed up and up, larger and larger, until he deflated suddenly with a squawk of impotent frustration.

When he turned on his heel it took perhaps three seconds for every eye in the clearing to leave him and in less than half a minute it was as though he had never been present. The crowd pulled tighter around the two at the center of the drama while Kagami rubbed at one eye and asked in a breathless voice if that had really just happened, clearly unable to believe his own ears. Tobirama looked down at him, blinked once, then without warning his lips parted in a brilliant smile that Madara was sure very few people in the village had ever witnessed. Apparently he was throwing all social cautions to the wind today.

None of them having seen such an expression on his face before, many of the people around them were understandably stunned in to quiet stillness, gawping at an oblivious Tobirama while Madara preened off to one side. His husband was indeed quite a stunning man.

The moment Kagami understood that he really was allowed to keep training with Tobirama after all was clear to everyone present. With a howl of victory that Tajima could probably hear no matter how far away he’d already gone the boy leapt in to the air several times, both fists raised in celebration. He threw himself first at his beloved sensei and then in to his mother’s arms while a fresh wave of tears spilled from his eyes. These, at least, were tears of joy.

“Kaachan! Kaachan did you hear? I get to keep him!” Laughing, the woman pulled her son up to sit on one hip even though he was far too big for such things.

“From what I heard it seems more like he gets to keep you.”

“Okay!”

Tobirama coughed to cover what would have surely been his own spray of laughter. Doing so brought eyes back to him and he finally seemed to realize he was making what he might call a spectacle of himself, though any Uchiha would see it merely as regular emoting. He made sure Kagami was distracted before slipping over to Madara's side.

“Pleased?” Madara asked him knowingly.

“Satisfied,” he muttered.

“Ah, I see. Saving the victory dance for when no one can see you?”

“I have never in my life performed a ‘victory dance’ and I have no intentions of doing so.” Tobirama glared at him with no heat at all behind it, obviously still too happy to be mad.

Unconvinced, Madara only shrugged and dared to reach down where he could weave their fingers together. “As long as you’re happy,” he said quietly.

He wasn’t surprised to get only a soft smile in return. Even in the privacy of their home he probably wouldn’t have gotten any bold declarations of glowing poetry – thankfully. Honestly such displays would be painful to sit through.

“Are you hungry?” The question caught him off guard, stammering out a few disconnected noises before he could answer.

“I suppose?”

“Excellent. I should like to take Kagami and his mother out to celebrate. She should be honored for sticking up for her son in such a manner.”

“Oh. Yes.” Madara lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s actually a very good idea.”

Tobirama heard the surprise in his voice and huffed. “I do have those on occasion. Now if you will excuse me.”

He turned away to catch the attention of Kagami’s mother but it was hard for Madara to find insult in the dismissal when his husband refused to let go of his hand or even so much as step away from his side. While he invited the two of them to dinner that night Madara smiled to himself and rocked back on his heels, looking around at the Uchiha gathered in a tight knit little group to chatter about the triumph of protecting the precious bond between one teacher and student pair. Could any other clan ever love quite like an Uchiha?

When his eyes slid over to take in his husband’s profile Madara twisted his mouth with a wry expression. He was the last person who should be allowed an opinion on how to love, barely understanding what was going on inside his own chest. Nevertheless he did understand the warmth that filled him as he watched the man trying and failing to contain his smile and if there was one thing he was sure of it was that with each day that passed he grew less and less afraid of the idea that this was the rest of his life.


	30. Chapter 30

Although his original plan had been just to invite Kagami and his mother over for a private dinner things changed when Madara mentioned that Susumu had been the one to help his cute little student disappear, allowing their ultimate triumph to happen as it had. Of course Tobirama asked his husband to send her an invitation as well. Then on the way home he ran in to Hashirama who had heard about a missing child and came to offer his help. Adding his brother to the party only felt natural considering his kindness for a boy he’d never properly met other than seeing each other in passing and asking Hashirama to dinner meant he would likely be bringing Mito as well. With a rueful sigh Tobirama asked the man to swing by, pick up Touka just to round it all out, and sent runners to everyone involved that he was going to reserve a table at a barbeque joint that had just opened up in the marketplace.

Despite his worries that the table would be cramped things actually worked out fairly well. Kagami’s mother sent word with her son that she wasn’t comfortable dining so casually in the presence of so much political power. Tobirama made a mental note to send her a gift instead. He found himself situated rather comfortably between Madara and Kagami, Hashirama across from him with wife and cousin on either side, and Susumu sat at the end of the table perched on a bar stool that she had dragged over for a bit of extra height.

Having quite literally all of his precious people gathered in one spot did something funny to Tobirama’s insides that he refused to pay any deeper attention to. Besides the birthday party they had been to not long ago this was the biggest social gathering he’d attended since his wedding, something that made him wonder why he didn’t remember seeing Susumu that night, but the usual discomforts that came with being forced to socialize were not present. Instead he found himself quite relaxed as he allowed Madara to press comfortably in to his side and listened to the never-ending chatter around him.

Watching Hashirama and Kagami interact was almost as much of a treat as watching Mito and Susumu but in the end Tobirama was much more distracted watching his ever proper sister-in-law try to decide how to react in the face of Susumu’s honest roughness. There was a certain entertainment he couldn’t deny in seeing Mito flounder for once. It was only made all the more amusing by the way her eyes flicked once or twice over to Touka, probably wondering why Susumu couldn’t be rough with more decorum the way their cousin did – which, in turn, was mostly funny because Touka had arrived to the restaurant and very promptly hunkered down to sleep. Apparently she hadn’t slept due to some sort of patrol scare the night before that turned out to be a false alarm.

“But you know how kids are,” Susumu was saying. “This cute little crumb was dead set on the world being over if he couldn’t have his favorite sensei and who could say no to such an adorable little ball of sugar, hm? I didn’t whelp him. That makes it my duty to spoil him!”

“Quite,” was all Mito said in return, her spine a little straighter than normal. Her eyes drifted sideways to glance at her own husband and Tobirama wondered if she was reconsidering their decision to try for children of their own soon.

“Sometimes you can out-stubborn a kid but it’s not something I’ve ever counted on. Why, I used to have to drag this disaster here home by his ears when he didn’t want to stop training.” Susumu jerked a thumb over at Madara who squawked in offense to have his childhood secrets laid bare so easily.

While his husband leaned over to attempt a very loving murder Tobirama watched Mito place a hand on her belly with furrowed brows. He would have pitied her the horror of carrying whatever spawn Hashirama might father but he happened to know that she had been given a choice of which Senju heir she wanted to marry and she was the one who chose Hashirama, not the other way around. He was glad of her choice, of course, but he had no sympathy for someone who got herself in to her current mess. It helped that he probably wouldn’t have to babysit very often. The Senju usually provided wet nurses for that sort of thing.

“Don’t listen to anything she says,” Madara looked over to plead with him, hands still occupied with trying to shove his old teacher off her stool. “She’s a crazy old bat and her memory’s failing her!”

“Ha! You wish, little one! I remember every minute of your childhood – every little embarrassing detail! Who wants a story?”

“Oh I would!” Hashirama piped up.

“Me too!” Kagami chimed in. Their expressions were eerily similar in their eager attention.

Briefly considering and then quickly discarding the idea of mercy, Tobirama leaned forward to support his chin in one palm with a smile. “I should like a story as well. What sort of man would I be not to show an interest in my husband’s beginnings?”

“I didn’t begin anywhere!” Madara insisted frantically. “I was born an adult! No embarrassing stories! Everyone shut up!”

Predictably, Susumu ignored him. As soon as she regained her balance she stood up on her stool in order to clamp a hand over Madara's mouth and regaled them all with a story about the time he had become convinced that jutsus lay dormant inside their elements until they were called forth with the correct hand signs.

“He waited for _hours_ by the river just staring at the water and waiting for – what was it? Oh! A dragon! He kept saying he was waiting for a dragon of all things to spring up out of the water. You’d think by twelve he would have given up on such fancies!”

“Sorry, a dragon?” Tobirama sat up again to lift an eyebrow at his husband. “Can I ask why specifically one of those?”

Madara screeched out a few muffled sentences before he managed to tear Susumu’s hand away from his mouth. “I’m not crazy, I swear. The week before we’d been in a skirmish with a company protecting the target we were contracted to kill and I _know_ what I saw. One of them called up an actual dragon from the river nearby!”

“Hey Tobi, that sounds like you!” Hashirama chirped. Tobirama nodded.

“It does indeed. Do you remember where that skirmish happened?”

“Dunno. Somewhat east of the old Yamanaka territory I think. Why does it matter where?”

“And you were twelve?”

Madara frowned and demanded a belligerent, “So?”

“I believe that may have been me,” Tobirama admitted. “I would have been around ten when I finally perfected the Water Dragon Jutsu and I was enamored enough to use it at every opportunity. And if I’m remembering correctly then I did run an escort mission through that area that my client barely escaped from. It seems we met quite a bit earlier than we thought, dear husband.”

“That was…you?” Madara blinked at him and Susumu harrumphed from the end of the table.

“Oh fine. Why don’t you just go ahead and _justify_ his childhood idiocies?” she grumbled.

Ignoring her and leaning a little farther away from her hand, Madara scooted a little closer to Tobirama with a wondering expression. “That’s incredible that we might have met so many years ago and not even known.”

“So romantic!” Hashirama crooned. He squawked when Tobirama kicked him under the table without looking.

“It sort of is,” Madara admitted, his ears pinking ever so slightly.

“Perhaps,” Tobirama allowed.

“Do you think we would have…gotten along then too?”

For a moment Tobirama narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, wondering at the pause in his husband’s sentence. Something told him that was not what the man intended to say. Then he shrugged it off and said, “Perhaps if we had enough sense to be honest with each other. I was a cautious child.”

“No you weren’t! You were already blowing things up in your lab when you were seven!” Hashirama looked as though the memory still horrified him but, worryingly, both Kagami and Susumu looked intrigued.

“If we could move the topic away from reminiscing about our childhoods and back to the original reason we all came out for tonight?” Dropping a hand on Kagami’s head, Tobirama smiled when the boy began to squirm with joy. “Have you given thanks to Susumu for helping you today?”

“Thanks baachan!”

“I told you not to call me baachan!”

Having successfully removed the focus from himself, more than happy to allow the table to focus on Kagami instead, Tobirama leaned a little deeper in to Madara's side and simply observed for a while. They certainly were an interesting bunch when they were all put together but there was something about the cacophony of so many different personalities that actually managed to weave together in an odd sort of harmony. For the first time in longer than he could remember Tobirama had no desire to escape a social environment that involved more than two or three people.

It was with great contentment that he sat and listened to Susumu recount a clearly exaggerated tale of how she had caused a distraction so Kagami could put the slip on everyone. The mite took up his own story afterwards and described with great pride the way he suppressed his chakra just like he’d been taught and hurried over to their favorite training ground where he put all the energy he could in to finally performing the Chameleon Jutsu correctly for the very first time.

“And Kaachan says I did it even better than she can! It was great, wasn’t it sensei?” He looked up at Tobirama with shining eyes, unaware of the clenching heart sensation he caused.

“Very impressive indeed,” Tobirama praised him and tried not to think about how good it was to still be allowed that title. “Trees are a particularly difficult environment for that jutsu with the way leaves and shadows are constantly moving but your disguise was seamless.”

“Cause I’m awesome!” Kagami declared, puffing out his chest.

Tobirama nodded solemnly. “And quite humble as well.”

“What does humble mean?”

“It means not getting a big head!” Susumu answered from her end of the table.

With a delicate clearing of her throat, Mito finally spoke up again to say, “The world would be a much better place if more people taught their children humility. Allow me to add my congratulations, young Kagami.”

She even managed to make her voice sound warm and Tobirama supposed he could understand a little more why his brother loved this woman so much. Not to say that Mito had ever been exactly cold to him but he’d never seen her as the nurturing type ready for the chaos of having a baby in the home. If she could find some value in his cute little student, though, there was hope for her yet. Only a blind idiot wouldn’t think his student was cute.

Impressed as he was to watch Mito strike up a conversation with Kagami, Hashirama amusing himself by prodding Susumu for more stories of a young clan heir, Tobirama found himself quite distracted when Madara leaned down to rest that great mane of hair against his shoulder.

“What a day,” his husband murmured. “And it’s barely even a couple hours passed noon. Can we really say we’re taking them out for dinner? I would think this is lunch.”

“A celebratory meal of undetermined nature,” Tobirama suggested, amused to earn himself a wrinkled nose.

“So many people all talking at once, we’re jumping between conversations like rabbits. It’s exhausting. I love all of them dearly but when can we go home?”

Before Tobirama had a chance to answer Hashirama let out a bark of laughter across the table that startled Touka back in to the land of the living, whereupon she violently pinched his side in retribution even as she leaned around him to politely ask Mito how long she had slept. Hashirama's screech attracted the attention of several other tables around theirs and all the warm fuzzy loving thoughts Tobirama had been thinking went out the window. Why did he love any part of this circus act? Only Mito knew how to properly act her age.

“That’s what you get for not using your indoor voice,” Touka declared, glaring balefully down at the plate of food in front of her, long gone cold.

“I was just laughing! Sometimes I can’t help how loud I laugh!”

“Maybe you should learn,” she grumbled.

“Ah come on, let him be loud,” Susumu called from her end. “He’s not hurting anyone!”

Touka’s expression was a mixture of sour exhaustion and undeniable curiosity. “He’s hurting my eardrums. And who are you? I must have tucked off before any of the introductions were made.”

“Name’s Susumu but you can call me anything but baachan! I was the poor sod tasked with molding this useless lump of dough in to a proper tough biscuit. He’s still got a few rough edges but all in all I think I did alright.” Grinning, Susumu stood up from her stool so she could lean forward enough to shake Touka’s hand.

“I think we’ll get along.”

“You say that now. What about when you find out I’m actually a raging psychopath?”

Touka only shrugged. “So is everyone else here. Except the kid, maybe.”

Unsurprisingly, Susumu roared with laughter. “Little one, why didn’t you introduce me to your in-laws sooner? I like them all!”

“Yeah. That’s exactly why,” Madara grumbled. He looked utterly terrified to see his sensei and his husband’s cousin fall in to conversation as though they’d known each other for years rather than a few minutes, rough personalities playing off each other with all the beauty of a natural disaster one cannot help but stare at.

Although he did sort of agree that an alliance between those two women in particular could mean terrible things for the rest of them Tobirama decided after a few moments of thought that he would rather they get along than feud. The only thing worse than Touka and Susumu cooperating would be if they took exception to each other. With that in mind he let the table shield his actions and reached over to weave his fingers in to Madara's, squeezing lightly. His husband paused in the middle of grumbling to give him a startlingly soft look which made Tobirama grateful everyone else was too occupied to look at them at the moment.

Eventually, as much fun as it was to watch Mito try to keep up with Kagami’s chatter or listen to Touka and Susumu planning terrifying surprise drills for the security squads, there was only so long a large group like theirs could stay in a restaurant before the staff began sending them blatant signals that their table was needed for other patrons. Strangely even Tobirama found himself a little reluctant to end the gathering but he did decline when Hashirama and Mito kindly invited everyone back to their place for tea and more conversation. He was only a little surprised that Susumu took the offer.

It would have taken much longer to make their goodbyes if he were given to half of the emotional outpouring his brother was but Tobirama managed to send off every one of the guests he had called together for their little celebration and be on his way in a little less than ten minutes. The only person who came away with him and his husband was Kagami, obviously travelling in the same direction as they all made their way back to the Uchiha compound. Susumu looked almost on the verge of adopting herself in to the Senju clan just to terrorize them all.

They had only travelled a few streets away when his student stiffened between one step and the next, looking up at Tobirama with a guilty face as though expecting to be told off for something.

“I didn’t say thank you,” he mourned. “Kaachan told me I was supposed to say thank you for the meal.”

“You could say it now,” Tobirama pointed out, glad of his usual blank face for hiding a smile.

“Oh! Okay! Thank you sensei, I had fun! I like your big brother!”

Ignoring the way Madara started snickering next to him, Tobirama sighed. “Yes, I’m not surprised that you do.”

“He’s funny! I wish I had a big brother too!”

Tobirama would have answered – probably with something that made Hashirama the butt of a joke – were he not distracted just then by a familiar face trudging out of a rather shabby looking establishment. Izuna at least had the good grace to look ashamed for a few moments to be caught coming out of a bar in the middle of the afternoon. The moment passed quickly when it registered exactly who had caught him and his face soured immediately as he locked eyes with the brother-in-law he so clearly had never wanted.

More painful than Kagami’s confused head tilt was Madara's frosty silence. Tobirama wondered when the last time was that the two brothers had actually spent any quality time together during which his name had not come up at all. Looking at the way they carefully kept their distance now he wondered if maybe it was time he himself put in a little effort to making this easier for his husband as he had once promised to do. When it came down to brass tacks simply vowing not to fight wasn’t nearly the same thing as actually making an attempt to get along. Which, he would be the first to point out, might be an impossibility when it came to the two of them but that shouldn’t stop him from at least trying. For Madara's sake if nothing else.

Feeling rather like he was asking to have his own words thrown back in his face, Tobirama waited until Izuna’s glare came back in his direction before speaking.

“We were just heading home,” he stated with no inflection. “I’m sure Madara would enjoy having his brother over for a nightcap. Would you care to walk with us?” It was hard to tell who was staring at him with more incredulity, Madara or Izuna, but he wondered if they knew they made the same face while doing it.

“You don’t owe me any favors,” Izuna blustered eventually.

“I don’t owe you anything,” Tobirama agreed.

“And I don’t need handouts!”

Trying not to sigh tiredly, Tobirama only shook his head. “The offer was no more than it sounded. If you wish to send time with your brother I can promise that I will stay in the office at home until you leave to give you some space. My presence has been a wedge between the two of you for long enough, wouldn’t you say?”

While the child between them looked back and forth with a bewildered expression, clearly wondering what was going on between all the adults but knowing enough not to ask, Izuna deliberated with an expression of great difficulty. Madara wasn’t exactly helping. Instead of offering any sort of opinion or even agreeing that he would indeed like to spend some time with his brother again he was standing completely still with his arms folded, body language entirely closed off. When Izuna finally answered it felt as though every word cost him.

“I meant what I said. I don’t want any handouts from you. So just carry on with your cute little evening out or whatever it is you were up to.”

He lifted his chin with the same excess of pride and stubbornness that only kept digging him deeper in to his own hole but Tobirama only shrugged, recognizing that for once he was not being offered any bait to rise to and mentally applauding the other man’s restraint. Madara waited to see if his brother would say anything else and when the silence continued he seemed just about to give up hope when Izuna finally spoke up again.

“Certainly looks like you’re having a good time.” Having never heard that tone from him before Tobirama couldn’t properly decipher what that was supposed to mean but he supposed it wasn’t all bad when the snippy way Madara responded seemed more defensive than truly angered.

“We _are_ happy. So good of you to notice.”

“Right. Then go on and…keep being happy or whatever.”

“Hmph. We will.” Madara sniffed and lifted his nose in to the air.

Deciding that leaving was the safest option, Tobirama cleared his throat to head off anything else and reached out to corral his student with one hand, pulling on Madara's wrist with the other.

“Right, come along Kagami. We promised your mother to see you home safely.” He kept one eye on Izuna as they trotted on by, more to satisfy his own curiosity as to whether the man would stumble back in to the bar to drown his miseries, but was surprised instead to find an almost wistful expression on Izuna’s face watching them all walk away. Almost as if he were immediately regretting his quick rejection.

More than anything else it was odd that he didn’t call them back to prolong the fight. Up until now even if they encountered each other at the office he had yet to pass on any opportunity to start shit. Surely by this point Tajima must have noticed but it would be laughable to think he would step in front of anything that might help him wage his own personal war against anyone who was born to the Senju head family.

“Sensei?” Kagami called up to him as soon as they were out of sight around a corner. “Why did Izuna-sama look like he needed to take a really big poop?” Madara choked on air while Tobirama bit the inside of his cheek until he could reply.

“That isn’t a very good description. Use your observational skills, Kagami, what was he feeling?”

“Uh…well he looked…sad I think. Kaachan makes that face sometimes when I ask her if we can get something from the market and she wants to say yes but she says no instead because we already spent our money on grown up stuff. Is that better?”

“Mn. Better, yes. Izuna is in much the same situation as your mother but it’s a little different. Imagine if rather than groceries your mother had spent all her money on a brand new dress she didn’t really need and then when you asked if you could buy something she wanted to give it to you but couldn’t, knowing it was her own frivolity that stopped her.”

While his student mulled this over Tobirama noted Madara looking behind them with a contemplative expression.

“So…Izuna-sama wanted to say yes and come with us but he said no because…um…” His tiny little nose wrinkled adorably as he tried to wriggle his mind through the complicated mess of adult personal problems.

“He started a fight,” Tobirama supplied flatly. “I offered to end the fight but I suppose he isn’t ready to admit his part in it. Does that answer your question?”

Kagami nodded. “Yes sensei! I think Izuna-sama is being silly!”

“So do I,” Madara grumbled.

Instead of offering his own opinion one way or another, Tobirama turned the conversation to other things. At this point his own personal grievances against Izuna were less important than the pain they were causing his husband and Madara's pain had become his own as soon as he started developing feelings for the man. He had extended an olive branch as blatantly as he could; it was up to Izuna now whether or not he chose to take it.

For the rest of their walk home Tobirama kept his student talking and drew no attention to Madara's continued silence. Perhaps it was not him that needed to reach out to heal the wound between two brothers. He did still feel some amount of guilt for being the cause of their rift even as he understood that he truly had no control over the issue Izuna had originally taken exception to. In his culture he had been raised to expect an arranged marriage. Dealing with the clash between his own upbringing and Madara's should have been between them; Izuna really had no right to hate him as badly as he did even before Madara had a change of heart on the subject.

On the upside it looked like the fool was finally starting to explore the option of having his own change of heart and Tobirama could only say he was relieved. Maybe not looking forward to it, he wasn’t sure either of them were capable of being friends with the other in any universe, but it would be a load off his mind not to worry about fighting a war against his husband’s family on two different fronts.

They said goodnight to Kagami at the fork in the road where their paths diverged, trusting him to make it back home by himself. When they entered their own abode Madara paused with his hands on his hips and looked around as though unable to decide what to do with himself.

“It’s only the middle of the afternoon,” he mumbled. Tobirama hummed in agreement, considered his options, and then gave the other man a solid push. As he went down Madara let out a very undignified, “Ack!”

“Shove up and make space,” Tobirama demanded.

“What the hell? If you wanted to get by you just had to ask!”

Huffing quietly, he pushed them both in to one corner of the sofa and reached for one of the books nearby that he was halfway through reading. “I didn’t want by.”

“Oh.”

It took several minutes but eventually all the tension flowed out of Madara's body when he finally got the hint. Tobirama refused to move so much as an inch while the other man shuffled around pulling a blanket of the back of the couch and snapping it out so he could drape them both in soft cotton. After sitting in a crowded restaurant with five other people plus themselves it was a nice change to sit together and read quietly for a time. Tobirama liked to imagine he could feel the stress of the outside world slipping away in moment’s like this, Madara's pleasant warmth beside him, one arm doing its best to circle his waist stealthily without drawing attention.

“It was interesting seeing our families interacting for the first time,” he murmured eventually.

“Our-? Hm. Yeah I guess…they are. Interesting is certainly a word for it.” Madara furrowed his brows until Tobirama turned just enough to kiss him lightly at the corner of those full lips he so loved to taste.

“Thank you, anata.”

He turned back to his book and pretended to read, listening to Madara harrumph and clear his throat and mumble his way through a few disconnected sentences. In the midst of all the drama that had plagued them in so many different ways lately, it was nice to have at least one quiet evening of peace together.


	31. Chapter 31

Tobirama had obviously just finished rinsing off the dishes from his lunch when Madara slammed in to the room, the walls of their house still echoing with how he had slammed the front door open as well. From the calm way his husband reached for a tea towel to dry his hands he must have felt Madara's chakra coming from halfway across the village. Surely anyone with even an iota of sensing capabilities had felt him as he made his way through the streets like an erupting volcano on the move, chakra boiling and spilling around him in a dark miasma of rage.

“I take it whatever meeting you were called to did not go well?” Tobirama asked. They were supposed to have eaten together for their lunch break, a lovely little date that Madara had been the one to set up for once, but plans were interrupted when a runner came to summon him back to the tower. It looked like the other had eaten without him.

“Fucking _imbecile_!”

“Mm. Not well at all.”

Tobirama’s eyes flickered away to the clock on the wall and Madara guessed he must be checking that there was enough time left of their lunch break to listen to the sort of rant they both knew was just waiting to burst forth. Just a little under twenty minutes was left until they should both be back at the office. Madara had checked. He had a temper, sure, but he wasn’t irresponsible with it. Mostly.

Before saying anything Madara first spent a couple of minutes stomping in circles around the table just to get some of his frustration out, snarling and blistering the air with language so strong it was a good thing Kagami had not chosen today for one of his spontaneous visits. Over the years he’d learned this was a vital step so he didn’t turn such language on whoever he was venting to, not wanting to sound accusatory. When he finally stopped pacing he felt no calmer and desperately cast about for a way to feel so. He solved the problem by stomping over and shoving his face flat against Tobirama’s chest where he released a muffled scream against the warm, solid muscle of his husband’s pectorals.

“Feel better?” Tobirama asked dubiously when the scream was done.

“No.”

“Would you like to tell me what happened?”

“Your father is as terrible a man as mine is!”

Nodding slowly, Tobirama dared to point out, “That is not new information.”

“I knew he was an ass; I didn’t know he was this much of one! Can you honestly believe what he said to me!?” Madara huffed and ground his teeth with indignation until he was pulled up short by Tobirama’s answer.

“Until you tell me what he said I can’t believe anything really.”

Madara paused and took a deep breath. It didn’t help very much. He still felt as though he were on the verge of blasting steam out of both ears when he allowed himself to speak again. “Not only did he imply that pretty much anyone can do my job which means I’m _not needed for them_ but he basically told me that I should be grateful to him for allowing me to focus on ‘less taxing responsibilities’. I’m going to kill him!”

Rather than defend his father – who they both knew did not warrant any defense – Tobirama mirrored his husband’s actions and took a deep breath in through his nose, letting it back out slowly through his mouth.

“Well, in answer to your question: no. I cannot believe he said that to you.”

“I’ve worked damn hard to improve the security teams! Their morale is up, their patrol patterns are tighter, I even worked out a schedule so no one ever has to stay on night duty for more than a couple of weeks at a time! Now he’s basically demoted me to a regular tower lackey and he says I should be _grateful_!?” Madara snorted and clenched his fists in a pantomime of strangling someone’s neck. “He even had the gall to tell me it would be better if I focused more on my duties as an heir! I know my own damn duties!”

He was gratified to see the clench of Tobirama’s jaw, a sign that he wasn’t overreacting to the situation. If Tobirama was angry enough for it to show visibly in any way at all then Madara knew the insult given him was serious enough to warrant his own rage.

“While I will freely admit that I was upset those projects were given to you in the first place I will also be the first to say that you have more than risen to whatever challenges such duties posed. You make an excellent lead for the security teams. I cannot fathom what he thinks to accomplish by removing you from them.” Tobirama’s brows knit together with a frustrated confusion Madara was not at all happy to clear up.

“Oh I can tell you why,” he spat. “He said, and I quote, that I should appreciate being relieved of such taxing work as I am clearly stretched too thin with all the projects I have taken on with you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Right? That’s what I said!”

Tobirama’s jaw clenched again. “Does he understand the irony that he is working towards the exact same goal as the man he’s trying to undermine with this asinine move?”

“Probably not! He doesn’t think! Neither of them think anymore! It’s like they signed their damn treaty and then threw any collective sense either of them had ever possessed out the window! Some days I can hardly believe my father is the same man pulling such idiotic stunts as he does – and now your father has decided to pitch in to the madness!?”

“No, you’re right. I don’t think either of them see a thing beyond the end of their own ambitions anymore. They built something that the world had never seen before and now they both want to rule over it uncontested.”

“They’re idiots!” Madara shouted.

He was startled to see a bit of humor flash across Tobirama’s face. “Utter fools.”

“Yes! And now their foolery has relegated me to little more than a lackey, a paper pusher. I barely pull any weight on the council now. Fuck, I’m no better than the Akimichi heir who falls asleep in almost every meeting!” The humor was gone immediately from Tobirama’s face and his husband reached out to pull him back in to a tight embrace.

“No. It won’t stand. Who else has little enough on their plate that they can take up all the work you do? Let him flex his authority if he must, this can’t last.”

Madara sighed tiredly as he felt all the energy and fight drain out of him. “But it can. All he has to do is split it up between a bunch of different people. He’ll probably promote that terrifying cousin of yours to my position if he thinks anything like Tajima does. My father accused him of trying to oust the Uchiha, if you’ll recall, and it seems Butsuma has finally decided to retaliate. By doing exactly what he was accused of, I might add!”

The chest he was buried in once more heaved with a sigh to match his own.

“I am so rarely optimistic, anata, will you not let me have just this once?”

“Fine. Oh yay. Gee I can’t wait to be reinstated when Butsuma magically stops being an asshole.”

“Much better. An excellent mood to go back to work with, I’m sure.” Tobirama didn’t exactly sound in high spirits himself but Madara appreciated having the tension broken even if he wasn’t actually ready to be positive.

“I’ll show _you_ high spirits,” he grumbled.

There wasn’t much time left before they needed to leave, barely a few minutes, but no matter how much Madara wanted to spend it cuddling Tobirama insisted that he find something to eat while he had the chance. Seeing as they were meant to attend Hashirama's for dinner that evening Madara did have to agree that it was safest not to leave his stomach too empty. It was always a gamble eating with Hashirama and Mito, their tastes being so varied. One never knew if the meal would be a wonderfully prepared delicacy or some monstrosity they discovered at the market and just had to try. Madara lived in fear of the day they discovered that durian fruits existed.

He returned to the office when break time was over with a full belly and slightly lowered blood pressure, though not by much. Never had he been so thankful of his own habit to bring his paperwork up to Tajima’s office before noon. After the day he’d had he wasn’t sure he had the energy left to deal with his own father’s cold attitude and he definitely did not want to be the one who broke the news that Butsuma demoted the heir of the Uchiha clan without even discussing the matter between them. That was not going to be a pretty conversation, although he didn’t want to get his hopes up that anything good would come back to him after those two idiots went through their latest blow out.

Since most of the work waiting on his desk pertained to projects he was supposedly no longer involved with Madara found a petty sort of satisfaction in dropping the massive stack of folders and scrolls on the floor to be dealt with by someone else and turned his attention to more simple administrative matters, things he had been doing since the governing body was first set up and they had all accepted basic duties. Hashirama gave him a questioning look but he was easy enough to distract with questions about dinner tonight.

For the rest of the day whenever someone brought Madara some of the things he should have been working on he cheerfully directed them to the growing pile of work on the floor. In the farfetched event he was actually allowed to continue the duties that were rightfully his it was likely he would regret ignoring them all day but that was a problem for the future, not to be considered right now.

No matter how wide he pulled the smirk across his face, however, it did nothing to lessen the stinging anger of rejection, the hot ball of betrayal for having something he cared about taken away from him without any real reason. Pretending everything was fine wouldn’t fix anything but it was the only way he knew how to deal with such emotions so he forged onward with a grim smile baring his teeth. And he smothered the tiny voice in the back of his mind that told him maybe it would be better if he took the time to work through what he was feeling sooner rather than later. The voice sounded suspiciously like Hashirama anyway and when did that oaf ever have anything smart to say?

Rather than take out his repressed emotions on the most convenient victim, Madara somehow managed to keep all of the insults against Hashirama to himself until his friend returned from dropping off documents to Butsuma. They wandered downstairs together to drag Tobirama out of his office and found Mito waiting for them just outside the building. Madara had only just opened his mouth to let loose at last and make fun of how many times today Hashirama had knocked over his pencil cup when their attention was called back by an unwanted voice.

Butsuma rather noticeably did not look Madara in the eye as he approached, though there was something about the tightness around his mouth that said he was holding back some sort of expression trying to form. Whether that was a smirk or a frown Madara didn’t know. Surprisingly, the man headed directly for his second son.

“Word arrived from the Daimyo this afternoon,” he announced. “His eminence regrets that he was too distracted to thank you and your mission partner properly after the two of you managed to uncover a coup being planned right under his nose.”

“None of us do this for acknowledgement,” Tobirama responded dutifully. The way he spoke gave Madara the impression he was only saying what was expected of him.

“As any shinobi should say. However, his eminence wishes to give his thanks personally as well as an apology for so rudely sending you away while you were injured. He has extended an invitation for you and Izuna to stay with him and attend a proper celebration of your deeds.” If he puffed his chest out any farther Butsuma may have been in danger of sprouting actual feathers to preen, clearly pleased with himself as though he had anything to do with the matter.

Ignoring the way Hashirama tried to thump him on the back in congratulations, Tobirama simply nodded and asked, “When is he expecting us?”

“You are to leave in four days and arrive on the fifth.” Again Tobirama nodded and Madara mentally crossed his fingers that the man would go now so he could begin soaking up as much of Tobirama’s attention as he could to make up for the time they would be apart. Of course, because that was just his luck today, Butsuma had to open his mouth again. “Unfortunately it seems Izuna will be much too busy to attend at the capital. He does, after all, have some incredibly important duties on his hands nowadays. I had thought it would be good if you took your husband along with you to stand in Izuna’s stead.”

That, at least, explained what Madara now recognized as a repressed smirk. It was little more than a miracle that he recognized anything beyond the haze of anger that fell over his eyes and suddenly it became very difficult to smother the instinctual urge to activate his Sharingan.

His temper only worsened when finally Butsuma’s gaze slid over to lock with his own and he could see the light of satisfaction dancing in those beady little eyes. Never in his life had he wanted so badly to punch someone. And considering the swift and vicious nature of his temper Madara really thought that should say something, both for the amount of anger he was controlling and the strength he was demonstrating in not actually throwing any punches.

“Your generosity knows no bounds, father,” Tobirama’s dry tone broke through his reveries and Madara turned to give his husband an incredulous look until he continued. “We never did get a honeymoon. It’s very kind of you to allow for one now. Since Madara's duties have been lightened perhaps we’ll set off a day earlier and take our time on the journey.”

Butsuma’s left eyes twitched. It was the most beautiful thing Madara had seen all day. He’d thought watching his own father’s plans get turned back on him time and again was fun but those incidents had nothing on the petty satisfaction of seeing Butsuma experience the same thing and knowing he couldn’t contradict his son without Hashirama and Mito asking questions. Indeed, Hashirama was already cooing over the idea while Mito granted them both indulgent smiles. Neither of them seemed to notice the tension between the three men all staring each other down with poison in their eyes and their faces held in masks of civility.

“Please send word to the Daimyo that we will of course accept his invitation. If Izuna cannot pull himself away from his work for a day or so to attend to his eminence then we will be happy to do so together. Thank you for letting us know, father, I will use the rest of this week to prepare for my own absence.”

“Right,” Butsuma mumbled. “Be sure that nothing falls behind while you are gone.”

“That goes without saying. Now, if you will excuse us. Good evening.”

Not another word was spoken as Tobirama gently and skillfully guided all members of their group off down the street while somehow also distracting his brother from the fact that their father’s cheeks were turning purple.

Madara wasn’t sure how his husband managed it but within a couple of minutes he had Hashirama and Mito walking several feet ahead of them engaged in conversation about what they had both gotten up to that day, neither looking back to see why their intended guests were lagging behind. Honestly, however, he didn’t care very much about the how when it gave him a few moments to just breathe and cling to the hand that slipped down to capture his own in a bracing grip.

“I’ll kill him,” he whispered.

“Anata…”

“No I mean it, I’m really going to kill him. How _dare_ he?”

“To be honest I don’t blame you. It’s bad enough to remove you from the things you’re good at but to send you away without warning just because–”

“No!” Madara almost felt bad for cutting his husband off but he was just so angry he couldn’t contain himself. “How dare he compare me to Izuna? How dare he imply that Izuna’s work is more important than my own? We perform wildly different functions! I don’t- UGH!”

He’d never so badly wanted to know how the hiraishin worked because right then he would have very much enjoyed the ability to just disappear without a trace. Sometimes the Body Flicker just couldn’t take him far enough. Thankfully he was blessed with the calm rock that was Tobirama, who said nothing about having his fingers squeezed so tight they could both feel their bones grinding together.

“I didn’t think of that but you’re right. It was unfair of him to do that. Crafty as well, though I can’t say for sure whether it was his intention to sow discourse between the two of you.”

“Well I don’t care what his intentions were! That was unfair! And terrible! I am not my brother and my brother is not me and we don’t do the same job so you really can’t compare how important either of us is – and maybe if he didn’t take my fucking job away from me then I wouldn’t be so ‘unimportant’! He can go straight to hell!” Madara snapped his jaw shut when he noticed his voice beginning to rise. They were still in public and no matter what people thought he did understand public decency.

After allowing him a moment to calm himself Tobirama looked around, the corners of his mouth tightening to see the street they were on was still quite busy. “If you would prefer not to be in company right now I can make our excuses to Anija.”

“It’s _fine_. We’ll make him listen to me bitching too. He deserves it.”

“Mm and what did he do to deserve such an honor?”

“He’s always so bloody happy!” Madara cried, indignant. “It’s not fair! Why can’t I be that happy all the time?”

It wasn’t until they had gone several more steps in silence that he realized there was anything amiss. When he turned to say something else he noticed Tobirama’s face was pulled in to a pensive expression, almost hesitant as he opened his own mouth, words slow and clearly very carefully worded.

“Are you unhappy most days?”

“What? Oh. No, no that’s not- I didn’t mean that. I meant- fuck’s sake every time I think ‘yeah this is good, I’m happy’ one of our fathers does something to kick us down again. I swear sometimes they can smell when we’re happy and they deliberately swoop in to ruin it. I hate them. I hate both of them. They’re old codgy bastards and they need to be retired. By force.” Madara scowled down at the ground in front of them, even angrier than before but now it was at himself for almost giving the impression that he was unhappy after both of them had been trying so hard to build what they had between them.

Tobirama seemed to understand at least, the pensive look slipping away and leaving sympathy in those pretty red eyes. Neither of them said much more for the rest of their walk to Hashirama's house. Madara distracted himself for a while thinking about how good he’d gotten at reading his husband’s expressions. The man wasn’t really much more expressive than he ever had been, still the same blank looking face on most occasions, but it had gotten easier to interpret the micro-changes and even the smallest quirk of his lips became a smile in Madara’ eyes, a certain shine became amusement. It was a testament to how close they’d become and thinking about their relationship did help keep his temper reigned in for now as he kept his concentration on happier things.

When they were only a couple of streets away from his house Hashirama finally turned and blinked behind himself as though only just remembering they were there too. As soon as he spotted them his face broke out in a sunshine smile that only served to reawaken Madara's annoyance.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you two! Mito was just telling me all about her day and it sounded so lovely!”

“Bully for you,” Madara called back. “Not all of us had lovely days!”

Hashirama all but ground his heels in to the dirt, screeching to a halt so he could wait for them to catch up with him and Mito. “Did you have a bad day Madara? Why didn’t you tell me! I would have cheered you up!” At his side, Mito shook her head.

“You were right there when Butsuma-sama told him in so many words that his brother was more vital to this village than he is. Would that make you feel good if he said it to you?”

“Well…I would be proud of my brother?” Hashirama tried. He winced when all three of them gave his sharp looks.

“Obviously I’m proud of my brother,” Madara snapped. “But it’s shitty to compare us against each other as if that means anything. It’s like comparing apples and oranges. Its- its- he’s not unimportant but I’m important too, damn it, and your stupid father can’t just take that away from me and laugh in my face about it!”

Eyes wide, Hashirama wilted. “Oh. Yeah. That wouldn’t feel good at all. Wait, what did he take away from you?”

Barely able to contain himself, Madara was almost grateful for the white hand that slapped itself over his mouth as Tobirama very carefully cleared his throat and suggested perhaps they should all go inside to discuss this. That was probably best. If any other words came out of him at that moment they would have been very loud and not at all tasteful. Biting his tongue until he was sure the indents would stay for weeks, Madara stomped off with the rest while they all quietly made the rest of the journey to Hashirama's home.

The moment the door was closed between them and the rest of the world it was like all restraints fell away and Madara stood in the genkan for fifteen minutes shouting to his heart’s content. Sometime during the flood of words Mito and Tobirama slipped away to prepare tea so by the time his words ran out and Hashirama led him in to the living room there was a steaming cup waiting for him next to where Tobirama sat on one half of a spectacularly ugly loveseat. Madara had enough kindness in him to wait until the man didn’t have a cup up near his face before flopping gracelessly down next to his husband and snatching up his own tea.

“I can’t believe he did that.” Hashirama shook his head.

“Can’t you?” Mito asked with sharp words. If he were feeling more himself Madara would have been surprised she had said anything that might even remotely be considered in support of him. They still hadn’t really warmed up to each other even after all this time.

“Well…okay yes, I suppose I can believe it of him.” Ignoring his tea, Hashirama rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose. “Some days it’s hard to reconcile the man he’s become with the man who raised us.”

Although Tobirama remained silent Madara was sure he felt the weight of both himself and Mito staring, waiting for his contradiction. It never came and yet they could still see it in his eyes. Butsuma had raised one son, buried two, and forgotten the one he deemed to not require his attention. As much as Hashirama wanted to love the man there had never truly been a father to love in him.

Madara scowled down in to his cup. He almost wished he could say the same of his own. Would it have been better to lose the affection he once so cherished or to never have it at all and feel no loss?

“I’m surprised you’re as calm as you are about all this,” Mito said but when he raised his head he saw that she was speaking to Tobirama, who only hummed and sipped his tea.

“Plotting a murder should never be done loudly.”

She granted him a gentle smile that should absolutely not look so deadly and then lifted one eyebrow. “I agree that silence is golden but I would have expected you to be a little more vocal now that we’re all alone. You did not go without insult yourself, my dear.”

“Your concern is appreciated but I’m fine,” Tobirama deflected while Madara blinked rapidly, trying to remember if Butsuma had said anything bad that he might have missed.

“Calling Izuna’s work too important to set down is an insult to both of you,” she pointed out. “You work more than the rest of us put together some days and he can send you away without a thought but not Izuna? One might begin to think he had changed his mind and decided to support the Uchiha above his own clan.”

“And I’m sure that when he realizes that he’ll be foaming at the mouth with disappointment for himself.” Tobirama shrugged it off as no big deal while Madara did his best to sink in to his own cushion and disappear.

In his anger he hadn’t even realized it but Mito was right. Of course Butsuma would think to send him off now that he apparently had nothing important to do but to pull Tobirama away from the hundred and one projects he always seemed to have a hand in? Any shinobi worth their salt was used to picking up and leaving on short notice if the mission was important enough but an invitation from the Daimyo wasn’t something that came on short notice. Invitations to the capitol were just as full of pomp and ridiculousness as its inhabitants. The Daimyo would have sent word more than a week in advance, which meant that Butsuma had deliberately been sitting on it all this time and just waiting to make his move. It was a miracle he hadn’t waited until the day before if that was his game.

What kind of man, he wondered, would throw his own son under the bus just to toss a petty insult in someone else’s face? Now Madara found himself faced with a new dilemma. He couldn’t decide if he was angrier on his own behalf or on Tobirama’s as the full scope of Butsuma’s idiocy sank in.

His husband must have noticed his stricken look, murmuring quietly from one side of his mouth.

“You were preoccupied and with good reason. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Madara told him just as quietly. “Would you like help planning his murder?”

Tobirama’s quicksilver smile was there and gone in an instant and that was all the answer he needed. He could be a tad blind in his anger but clearly Tobirama understood.

“Guys, please stop whispering. You’re making me really nervous.” When he looked up Madara saw that his best friend was wringing both hands anxiously, clearly not able to hear what they were saying but still under the impression that they were indeed plotting a murder. He knew them both so well.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Madara replied petulantly.

“I didn’t! I asked!”

“Semantics.” Delicately lifting the teacup he had almost forgotten about, Madara sipped at the drink before it could go cold and listened to Hashirama whining at him without any outward reaction.

Finally having the chance to yell everything out of system when he came in the home, Madara found that he really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. Chewing over the issue wouldn’t change anything and listening to Hashirama's sympathetic murmurs would only keep him concentrated on feeling down. Distracting the man was as easy now as it had been in the office. With only one sentence wondering about some gossip he’s overheard yesterday he had Hashirama off on a tangent chasing this new topic and although he could tell he hadn’t fooled either Tobirama or Mito he was grateful that both of them let the subject drop as well.

It was a relief to let the mood around him lighten. Madara was happy enough to join the conversation at times but for the most part he tried not to be obvious about leaning in to his husband for a bit of comfort. More and more as the months went by it was starting to feel like their lives were ever-changing in way they shouldn’t be and he realized he was coming to rely on Tobirama as one of the only constants he had left.

When he felt a pale hand slip in to his own for a brief squeeze and then slipping away before anyone could notice their PDA Madara bit his lip. It wasn’t all bad. If all he had left in the world was Tobirama then he was doing alright, he thought.


	32. Chapter 32

Getting their things together for a trip that would take them out of the village for more than a week mostly consisted of Tobirama running here and there to find people who were willing and able to cover his work. If he were to leave for any sort of emergency they would have had to cover him anyway but it was always best for good relations to give people a little forewarning. Madara noticed that his husband hadn’t seemed to take any time for packing but when he questioned it he nodded approvingly to know that Tobirama still had an away bag ready to go in the back of their closet. He himself had fallen out of the habit, what with him not being sent out of the village very often.

None of the most high profile from either clan were sent out often, he had realized. It wasn’t something he’d taken much notice of before now but once the idea was there it was hard to shake. Butsuma and Tajima spent so much time accusing each other of giving preferential treatment to their respective clans they probably didn’t realize they were doing the same. Or perhaps it was on purpose. Whatever the reason, Madara wondered if he should try to subtly find his way out on more missions from here on. It wouldn’t do for the lower ranks to see them cowering behind walls and sending others to do their dirty work for them.

By the time they actually left home a few days later Madara didn’t feel much calmer about the entire ordeal of his demotion. He did feel slightly vindicated though. Once Tajima caught wind of the situation their row had been utterly spectacular, clearly heard from three streets away where Madara and Tobirama sat ensconced in a quaint little teashop hiding their smiles behind soothing chamomile. In the end it was decided that he was not to be given his previous work back since to overturn Butsuma’s decision was deemed too great an insult by the council at large. He was, however, given an entirely new project to head that had been in the works since the village was formed.

A police force. The very idea felt strange in his mouth but it was a good idea. Once he figured out where the original concept had come from he had congratulated his husband, ignoring a new flash of guilt that he was apparently being given yet another pet project that Tobirama had come up with only to have taken away.

Even getting started with plans for this new police force would have to wait, however, as Madara sent one last look over his shoulder at the village he now called home. He was scowling dismissively when he turned to face forward again.

“You’re looking cheerful this morning,” Tobirama told him sarcastically.

“This is still complete bullshit. Although I guess it’s nice to know we won’t have anyone else’s drama to deal with for at least a week.”

“Ah. That is true.”

Madara's scowl lessened slightly as the path curved around a copse of trees, knowing that Konoha would be officially out of sight behind them, though a little distance was hardly enough to take the sting out of the insults he would have to bear for the next several days. If being compared to Izuna wasn’t bad enough – if being found wanting wasn’t bad enough – he would now have to sit in the capital on his best behavior and accept accolades that were not his own. Not even having Tobirama with him was likely to help keep him from feeling like he was covered in a layer of grime.

Just like not even Tobirama’s company was enough to keep his mood from spiraling back down more and more with every step towards what would already have been a boring week even if it had been to celebrate his own efforts. Obviously he was thrilled he would get to spend some time with his husband uninterrupted by their families or nosey teachers or work duties. It really was in some ways going to be like the honeymoon they’d had neither the chance nor inclination to go on when they first tied the knot. But from the limited number of times Madara had met the Daimyo before he’d gotten the impression that anything happening in the upscale fairyland world all nobles lived in would be long and drawn out. He strongly suspected they were facing hours upon hours of boring speeches and demonstrations of unimpressive skills that all shinobi could outstrip at a young age, expected to applaud and compliment each performance even though none of it was in Madara's honor.

Try as he would, none of Tobirama’s attempts to start a conversation worked to distract Madara from his worsening mood. Izuna would have told him he was on the verge of another temper tantrum and although Madara could feel it happening he could do nothing to stop the cascade of his own emotions. He was almost grateful to be interrupted two hours in to their journey. Between one step and the next he was halted by a hand on his arm, both of them tensing immediately.

“Several unknown signatures to the east, high level except for one underdeveloped.”

“Jōnin level?” Madara asked, cheered ever so slightly by the grateful surprise in Tobirama’s eyes.

“Well at least someone has been learning the new ranking system. Yes, all but one appear to be jōnin. The last I would guess to be a child. Killing intent present.”

Madara concentrated and reached out with his own senses. “Do you know that it’s sort of annoying how you can sense these things without trying? It’s still within my range but I have to actually be looking to see something that far away.”

“Yes I’ve been told on many occasions how annoying I am,” Tobirama answered cheekily. “Shall we investigate? You look like you could use an excuse to let off some steam.”

No further convincing was needed. With his teeth bared in a feral grin he turned and led the way himself, both of them dampening their chakra as they went so as not to attract attention. If it turned out their intervention wasn’t necessary there was no point in terrifying some poor convoy from a friendly nation delivering messages or goods. Should they happen upon a patrol fighting off bandits and see they were needed then they would simply go on their way without interfering.

Luckily for Madara's temper, that was not what they found. The scene they came upon was the exact sort of thing that he’d thought died out with the generation before his father. Child hunting squads had fallen out of favor in recent generations as each clan finally came to realize that what goes around comes around and they were only losing their only children to the same dirty practice. Now it looked like someone had taken up old habits. The girl could not have been more than three or four years old, dressed well enough to mark her as the child of a very prominent family, and the only reason her screams were not filling the woods for a five mile radius was the strip of black cloth tied over her mouth. Her eyes were wide and terrified as she watched the last of her retainers get cut down by a man in shoddy armor of no particular denomination.

“I’ve got this,” Madara grunted.

The fact that Tobirama actually respected that and stayed behind barely registered as Madara threw himself forward, wishing it would have been appropriate to bring his gunbai on a diplomatic envoy. All he had on him was a few kunai but that was more than enough. In fact that gave him better opportunity to get in close and engage each of these child-napping bastards personally while Tobirama flashed in to spirit the child away.

From the first punch he landed in some bitch’s throat Madara felt a welcome cathartic release he’d only ever found in battle. Was it mentally sound that he found taking lives to be relaxing? Probably not. Did he care? Very much not. That mattered so much less than the satisfaction of driving his blade in to a man’s eye socket and spinning to kick another in the chest, stopping himself from being impaled on a naginata even longer than the one Touka favored. It had been too long since he’d been able to enjoy the thrill of a proper battle rather than the carefully tempered blows of a spar or katas practiced alone. Watching another body drop was like falling back in to old patterns on sheer muscle memory alone, entirely undeterred by the fact that his blows didn’t have quite the impact they might have if he had the chance to come out and hone his skills a little more often. They were still deadly at least and that was all the counted. He really would need to see about getting back in to mission rotation. This was fun.

Ducking underneath another swing of the same naginata, Madara twisted and threw one of his kunai in the same movement to catch another of his opponents in the chest, his lips twisting when he saw her dodge just enough that the injury was not a fatal one. She staggered and came towards him again but Madara flowed with the dance of battle to catch her attack on those of the naginata. He very nearly laughed out loud when both of them growled in frustration. That was good. Frustrated opponents were always the sloppiest.

Except for desperate ones. But desperate people were also usually the most dangerous as well.

One hand steadying the blade lodged in the front of her shoulder, sadly not stupid enough to just pull it out, the woman very carefully stepped back to regroup and used her injured arm to make a hand sign. Madara disengaged from his current fight to kick her hands apart but not before the earth itself began reaching out to trip him up with a dozen hands all pulling at his ankles and his clothing. None of them were particularly hard to shatter, all it took was a single kick or a swipe of his hand, but it was enough of a nuisance that he decided against drawing this out.

Ending the battle was as easy as drawing the woman close enough to rip the kunai out of her flesh himself and drive it right back in where he’d meant to strike her heart in the first place then disarming his final opponent and beheading the man with his own naginata. A quick ending for a quick battle.

In the aftermath Madara gave a moment’s thought to keeping the blade but ultimately dropped it carelessly on the fallen bodies at his feet as he surveyed the damage he had wrought. Satisfaction rolled through him to see the spattered blood and occasional bit of innards around the clearing, much calmer now that he’d had a chance to vent himself violently without fearing of hurting those who were dear to him. With absolutely no tension left in his body he turned back to his husband – and cringed to see the single survivor with her tiny head pressed in to Tobirama’s chest to block her view of what he was doing.

“Ah, is she, uh, alright?” Hopefully he hadn’t scarred her any deeper than watching her retainers be slaughtered before her eyes had already done. Thankfully Tobirama didn’t look too upset. Actually he looked a little star struck if Madara were to pick a word for the look in those pretty red eyes.

“She didn’t see anything, I made sure of that, and you were…most efficient.” Even his husband’s voice sounded admiring, encouraging Madara to puff his chest out a little to soak up the praise.

“Let’s get her away from here.”

Tobirama nodded, still watching his every move with a thrilling sort of hunger in his eyes, and secured the child a little more tightly in his arms so he could turn and dash far enough away that the sight and smell of so much blood was out of range for even their own senses. When he set her down she sobbed wildly and reached for him again in the way of a frightened young one clinging to the only bastion of safety they can see. His entire face softened as he patted her back soothingly, rubbing small circles and speaking nonsense assurance for the ten or so minutes it took for the worst of her storm to pass.

By no means was she calm when they were finally able to get her to talk. She’d just witnessed death; even the young from their own clans were never calm after their first battlefield experience. She wasn’t screaming anymore though and she was verbal enough to speak through her wracking sobs to help them understand what had happened.

“I want my mommy!” were her first words and Madara chewed on the inside of his cheek awkwardly.

“Where is your mother?” Tobirama asked her gently, not even wincing when she wailed again.

“I want my mommy! I want to go home!”

“Do you know where you live? Is it far from here?”

“Home!”

Getting answers from the tiny thing was about as hard as getting answers from any frightened toddler. It took asking every question several times in several different ways to get any information but Tobirama remained patient through it all and Madara was still riding the wave of catharsis from venting his frustration on a bunch of child-napping meat bags so they were both able to stay calm for her. Eventually they managed to get the story out in pieces until they understood that she had been stolen from her home in the capitol and the ‘bad men’ kept telling her that she was better alive, a clear case of snatch and ransom if Madara had ever seen one.

When they finally let her stop talking she had cried so much she all but fainted in Tobirama’s arms after agreeing to take a sip from his canteen. He had barely settled her head in a more comfortable position before he looked up with a look that took very little to decipher.

“You want to take her with us,” Madara deduced.

“We’re already travelling that way. She’s a civilian child, it’s not like she can make it there on her own.”

“She wouldn’t make it anywhere really.” Rolling his eyes as though agreeing only with great reluctance, Madara threw up his hands. “Alright, fine, let’s bring her along. I wouldn’t want you staying up at night because we left her alone in the woods or something.”

He was tearing off a clump of moss from a nearby tree to wipe his hands on and clean off his blades when he heard Tobirama muttering, “Yes because I’m the only one who would be kept up at night.” He chose to ignore it. If he had a soft spot for children that was clearly his own business.

The whole detour hadn’t exactly taken a large chunk out of their expected travel for the day, more time spent on getting answers from a sobbing child than erasing the idiots who had kidnapped her. It didn’t take long to get back on track and she wasn’t much extra weight to two shinobi with chakra enhancing their every movement. Even after she woke up and had a small meltdown all it took was calming her down enough to explain that they were taking her home and she was able to stay tightly wound about Tobirama’s neck while he traveled, still sniffing and wildly traumatized by the violence she’d seen but docile compared to the panic most people in her circumstances would exhibit.

After such an eventful start the rest of the day’s travel went smoothly according to plan. Their little addition didn’t attract much extra attention; many of the small groups they passed on their way had children with them as well and since Madara had taken the time to clean himself of blood they didn’t look like anything but fellow travelers. For lunch they stopped and ate on the side of the road with an older gentleman who didn’t say much. When evening came around they had originally intended to get a room in one of the tiny villages they passed through but with precious cargo riding with them now they decided it was safer to make camp in a cave where the security would be easier to control.

What they found had obviously been a den at some point. It was the perfect size for three bodies to sleep out of the weather and still have enough room to build a fire near the front so the smoke wouldn’t suffocate them. Dinner was a hot pot of whatever vegetation they were able to gather while looking for a safe place to bed down for the night. It turned out that Tobirama was clever enough to carry a scroll with all sorts of extras in case of emergencies, one of which was a bowl for the little girl to eat from now that she had finally stop crying.

“You look slightly more cheerful than before,” Tobirama mentioned once they were all seated together with a bowl of stew. “And I actually mean that this time.”

“I choose not to find that offensive,” Madara grumbled. He even found it in himself to enjoy it when the other laughed.

“Very big of you.”

Sticking his nose in the air got him nothing more than a bit of quiet laughter and a curious glance from the little girl between them. Madara hurried to distract. “I can’t help but be in a decent mood after doing such a good deed. Admittedly I’m a bit surprised that you didn’t try to jump in and help no matter what I said.”

“You had things well handled from what I could tell and one of us needed to watch out for this little one.” As he spoke Tobirama looked down at their guest, who shrank away for a moment before perking up.

Now that she was calm she was a cheerful thing. The elasticity of children and her very young age meant that she was able to bounce back from her trauma – or perhaps that she hadn’t actually understood the true gravity of what happened before. Neither of them wanted to delve too deep in to her psyche as temporary guardians, that sort of thing was better left for when they were able to send her on back to whichever noble family she had been taken from. They would be able to provide much better care for her.

With a very tiny smile she lifted her spoon to show Tobirama a bit of her soup and then swooped it in to her mouth with an exaggerated yummy noise like one would use to convince a fussy child to try a bite of something. She waited for him to nod in approval and clap his hands very gently to smile wider, immediately digging for more soup. It was an adorable little exchange that Madara was loathe to interrupt. He ended up waiting until they had all eaten their dinner to pick up any further conversation. The girl was allowed to roam curiously about their little campsite, picking up rocks and playing with twigs, and both of them kept one eye on her as they settled together against the back wall.

“Not how I thought our so-called honeymoon would go. Kids do come after marriage but I don’t remember adopting any.” Madara shoved Tobirama’s knee with his own to make it clear he was jesting and received a light shove in turn.

“We could release her in to the wild if you think your conscience could handle it,” Tobirama offered with one eyebrow lifted knowingly. It was worryingly reminiscent of Susumu-sensei.

“I will have you know that I am a hardened warrior without a heart and could not care less. Oi! Careful over there, you almost hit your head!”

“You were saying something about…not caring?”

Madara looked away from where the girl was now inspecting the rock overhang she had almost crashed in to, crossing his arms. “Just because I didn’t let her hurt herself does not mean I care. About her. I care about other things.”

“Oh? Anything Interesting?” The jerk twitched his lips up in a way Madara recognized as a smirk. Very unappreciated.

“Look, I don’t need all this attitude. I let you take her with us didn’t I? So I let you do what you wanted; maybe you should let me do what I want now. And since there’s no one else around you have no excuse to stop me from doing this either.” He lunged one hand over to weave their fingers together, taking a firm grip in case Tobirama tried to pull away on reflex. Except he did nothing of the sort. With a smile his husband leaned over just close enough to grace his cheek with a soft kiss – after making sure the little girl was not watching them of course.

“What possible reason could I have to not want this?” he asked and Madara had to fight back a blush. That was not the expected reaction.

“I don’t know,” Madara floundered. “Inherent dickheadedness? Shut up! Go play with your new kid!”

Even as he said it he held tighter to the fingers in his grasp, grateful when all Tobirama did was laugh and settle a bit closer against his side. Which was nice. Of course, it didn’t last for long since the little girl came squealing over a few moments later because she had pricked her finger, blindly trusting in Tobirama to deal with the splinter now lodged under her skin. As softly as he might handle his own precious Kagami, perhaps even softer, Tobirama gathered the mite in to his arms and settled her across his lap where he could inspect her finger and gently explain how he would get it out. She hung on to his every word with tearful eyes so empty of duplicity it ached.

Watching the two of them was bittersweet in a gentle way, like a window in to a possible future if he and Tobirama ever decided they did want to adopt children of their own. For all the fearsome reputation his husband had and the expressionless face he showed to the rest of the world he certainly looked like nothing more than a doting father as he soothed the tiny wound with a spark of chakra and slid the splinter out with ease.

Something warm and pleasant spread out through Madara's chest as he gave that little tangent a little more thought. Him and Tobirama sitting together on the engawa behind their home while little feet scampered around the backyard. Growing old together as they watched their children grow and surpass them. Building the village more and more with every year until they passed it on to the next generation, still holding hands under the table when they met with Hashirama and his wife for afternoon tea.

His little daydream was punctured when the girl squealed with laughter; Tobirama had apparently taken his distraction as a chance to engage in tickle games, of all things. Madara stared at the two of them with wonder in his eyes and thought to himself that he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have this is his life.

And then his heart shuddered to a stop in his chest. It was such an ordinary moment, nothing he would have ever thought to cast in his memory for the rest of his life, and yet that was the moment when Madara looked at his husband and felt as though he were truly seeing what he had before him. He looked at Tobirama playing with a little child they picked up on the side of the road, smiling without a care in the world, and he thought…

_Oh. I’m in love. _


	33. Chapter 33

Acting like a normal human being for the rest of the night without blurting out his recent mind-bending revelation was, strangely, not quite as hard as he might have expected it to be. Tobirama did most of the work for him by staying distracted with their temporary ward and deciding to sleep when they tucked her in for the night as well. Since they had already set up a frankly overzealous amount of traps and barriers when they made camp earlier all Madara had to do was nod along and stumble over to his bedroll. After the girl fell asleep Tobirama rolled over and threw an arm around Madara's waist to pull him close the same way they always slept and Madara prayed to every god he knew that Tobirama wouldn’t hear the heart pounding in his chest, squeezing his eyes shut to wait for his husband to drop off as well so he could continue to let his mind boggle.

He was in love. Finally the certainty in his own emotions that he had been waiting for – and he couldn’t say it because there was a little child there just waiting to ruin his heartfelt moment.

Finding sleep was difficult when his heart felt so full; he was almost surprised his Sharingan didn’t spontaneously activate every other minute while the night hours whiled away. He dropped off eventually but it felt as though he merely blinked and morning had arrived. Thankfully Tobirama didn’t take his tiredness to be anything more than the usual morning grumps and when they set off on the road again he had managed to keep his tongue in check mostly by keeping quiet. Since neither of them were large chatterboxes that worked for most of the day as well.

He found a better distraction in their ward as she grew more and more excited the closer they got to the capital, recognizing major landmarks that told her she was going home. She pointed each of them out as they passed, babbling on every time with some story about her parents, and Tobirama at least pretended to listen the whole time. Madara wasn’t sure if he was actually listening but just that amount of effort was still heartwarming.

Gaining entry to the city wasn’t nearly as difficult as the last time Madara accompanied his father to present themselves before the Daimyo. Security had apparently grown lax since he was young. No wonder other children were going missing nowadays. Their ward didn’t know her own address and couldn’t give them better directions than “go home” once they stepped inside the city so, after a brief stop to discuss their plan of action, they decided it was best to simply bring her along and hope that someone in the palace would recognize her. If luck was truly on their side then perhaps one of her relatives would be there to take her off their hands.

“Otherwise we really will end up adopting early,” Tobirama muttered quietly in jest. Madara clutched at his thundering heart and tried to play it off as brushing dust from his clothing.

“If you’re adopting anyway,” he grumbled back, “I should think it would be Kagami.”

“His mother probably wouldn’t agree to that.”

Madara conceded the point but shooed his husband along, eager to get to their destination. The sooner they got this kid off their hands and got through all the pomp of their arrival the sooner they could be alone for him to spill his guts. He was probably going to embarrass himself terribly but at least it would be over with.

The Daimyo was great and all, a very important man, but nothing was more important to Madara at the moment than finally getting to speak the precious words every Uchiha saved for only one partner in their life. After so much agonizing over the dour possibility of never having these feelings he was more than ready to celebrate the happiness of experiencing them with the man he had already agreed to spend his life with.

When they arrived at the palace they were met with a small army of servants wanting to take their bags, cool their brows, offer them water, and just generally pamper them in the many ways any noble might expect. They allowed their bags to be taken away with instructions that they be placed in the same room with only one bed – Madara glared down the one serving boy who looked surprised – and asked if their lord required them to present themselves right away. As soon as the words were out of their mouths they were whisked off to meet with the one who called them here.

Less than half a dozen steps in to the receiving room where the Daimyo sat in comfort on a heavily embroidered cushion they were stopped by a woman’s voice shouting from the far corner.

“Chihiro!” She rushed towards them on shaking legs, her eyes wide and quickly gathering tears. At first sight of her the little girl between them pulled away from Tobirama and threw herself in to the woman’s arms.

“Kaachan! Kaachan!”

The woman sank to the floor and burst in to tears while the girl babbled obliviously, clearly happy to have been reunited with her mother, already recounting the tale of how she and her retainers had gone on what she called an adventure with some bad men. Madara watched the heart-wrenching scene unfold with a leaden fist around his heart. Too few families were blessed to experience moments like this in their own world; he was grateful to have helped even just one family see a happy ending.

“How fortuitous that you arrive now!” the daimyo called, raising his arms in a wide gesture. “Little Chihiro’s parents were only just asking my assistance in locating her and here you come to save the day. Wonderful! Welcome, my friends, welcome!”

Instead of a pompous greeting the two of them were immediately swept under by a wave of heartfelt thanks from the girl’s mother, interspersed with liberal praise from their lord. Madara soaked it in triumphantly. He’d made the journey expecting to sit in for someone else, unwanted and out of place, but now he was a hero in the nobles’ eyes and they had reason to celebrate him on his own merits. It was just the perfect cherry on top of the other ball of happiness still waiting to burst out of his chest at a moment’s notice.

Unfortunately for his confessional plans their grand entrance made such a stir that they were held up in a meeting with the daimyo for more than an hour and then separated so they could be prepared for a formal dinner. Both of them were assigned personal attendants and Madara's made such a fuss over having him look perfect for the feast that he didn’t have a single moment alone with his husband before they were led in to the hall and presented to the court as guests of honor, placed in seats so close to the head of the table he delighted in picturing his father grinding his teeth with jealousy. Even if the next few days were a misery of boredom this was worth it just for the chance to go home and tell his father every excruciating detail about how important he was for this one night.

Throughout the night he kept hoping the festivities would end soon so they might be allowed to go back to their room but after the dinner they were asked to stay and enjoy the geisha who arrived to entertain them with dancing and music. Madara would be the first to admit his manners weren’t perfect but he wasn’t so uncouth as to walk away from such an honor. When they were finally able to slip away back to their rooms the hour was so late they had just enough energy to undress themselves before curling up together in the bed and falling asleep.

Much of the next few days ran in a similar pattern. Every time Madara thought they might have a decent moment alone to talk they were interrupted or summoned to some new activity the Daimyo had planned. On the one hand he could sort of understand that the man was grateful they stopped a coup from happening, keeping his butt in the proverbial throne, but it seemed excessive to plan an entire week of celebrations that kept them so busy he couldn’t even make one simple confession to his own husband.

Well, he could have. It didn’t take much time to say three little words. But this felt like something that should be given proper gravitas and a little time to sink in, he didn’t really want to squeeze it in between bites of lunch or something.

He wasn’t given a break until the fourth day when the garden party neither of them were enjoying was interrupted by a minor nobleman arriving with urgent news for their lord. The daimyo excused himself with several apologies and invited the guests to continue their frivolity without him for the time being. Madara waited exactly three minutes after the man was gone, checked to make sure no one was paying them any attention, then dragged his husband away down the closest garden path. They disappeared behind the hedges and didn’t look back.

Tobirama was smiling at the back of his head, he could tell without having to turn around and look, but Madara ignored it as he continue to scurry between the rows of flora in search of a nice quiet place they could stand and talk. If they were going to be run ragged every day to the point where they had little energy to do more than crawl in to bed and pass out then he was going to jump on this chance and make no apologies about it. Thankfully for his sanity they didn’t encounter so much as a gardener on their way. Madara wasn’t sure what he would have done if the paths were full of people. He stopped after several minutes of tugging his husband along, rounding a corner to find a quaint little koi pond with a carved stone bench to one side just the perfect size for two people to sit together.

Which is what he did, dropping down on to one half and unceremoniously pulling a bemused Tobirama down with him.

“Something on your mind, anata?”

“Don’t take that teasing tone with me! But, uh, yes.” Madara opened his mouth and then immediately snapped it shut as he realized that, for all the time he’d spent mourning the lack of opportunity to do this, he’d never actually taken a moment to figure out what he should say.

“Take your time,” Tobirama said.

Choking down his nerves, Madara nodded to himself and dragged his eyes up to meet the pretty red ones looking back at him patiently. Someone a little more cultured than him would probably have some fancy way of laying it all out. All he had in his head were three words. Pressed for time and a little out of his depth, Madara decided that honesty was probably the best policy and he should say something quickly before he started looking like a crazy person.

“I love you,” he blurted, rushing onwards as Tobirama’s eyes widened comically. “It just kind of hit me while you were taking care of Chihiro but we’ve been so busy ever since and there was never a second for me to say anything but it’s been _killing me_ not to.”

“You…?” Tobirama’s voice had never been so soft. Just hearing the disbelief in his voice had Madara blushing and babbling onwards.

“And I’m really sorry it took me forever to figure out my own feelings. It’s just that I’ve never been in love before! Not even close to it! So I just wasn’t sure if that’s what I was feeling or if it was supposed to be different. But then you were smiling and being so good with that little girl and it just kind of crashed in to me like a doton; I’ve never had a religious experience before but I sort of imagine it would be like that, you know?”

“Peace, anata.”

His jaw snapped shut again with just as much nervous energy as before. Madara twitched and resisted the impulse to dig his toes in to the dirt shyly while his husband continue to stare at him with naked awe. Just when he thought they might sit there all day doing nothing but looking in to each other’s eyes Tobirama lifted both hands to cup the sides of his face.

“Will you say it again?” he asked very quietly.

“Oh. I- I love you.”

Tobirama said nothing in return. The look on his face was beyond words but he spoke with his actions instead, as he so often preferred to do, leaning over to press their lips together in a deep kiss that said everything he couldn’t just then. Madara sank in to it with a moan. Everything in him felt lighter for having finally said the words he’d been holding in for days.

From the tips of his toes to the very top of his head Madara felt almost as though he were being slowly charged with static electricity. As relief drained the tension from his body he could feel it gradually being replaced by a strange sort of triumphant energy, the urge to stand on a rooftop and crow his victory because this was everything he had ever wanted, everything an Uchiha could dream of. A husband that loved him whom he loved so deeply in return, a happy home together. Hands to hold through the longest nights. When he was old and gray Tobirama would be there at his side and knowing that was a warm feeling, a happy yearning, so different from the bitter cold dread that had filled him when they were first betrothed.

“You cannot know what those words mean to me,” Tobirama whispered against his mouth before taking it again in another desperate kiss.

“I think I might be able to guess,” he managed to say when they parted again.

“Do you know how many times I have wanted to say that to you?”

“You could say it now.”

So he did. Madara flushed and eventually had to look away as Tobirama murmured the words to him again and again, brushing kisses against his neck and whispering in his ear like a proper pair of lovers. For such a reserved man he certainly could pull out the romance when he wanted to. Who would have thought he could be as sappy as his brother?

Not that Madara could say he was any better at the moment. Some fierce warrior he must look like with his eyes shining and his heart fairly beating out of his chest.

In the end it was the distant sound of laughter that made them remember where they were. Caught up in each other’s lips yet again, fingers tangled in hair, they pulled apart to look over in the direction of what sounded like one of the daimyo’s daughters. If they could hear her that well she must have snuck up quite close while they weren’t paying attention to their surroundings. It also meant that the other party attendants were starting to branch out in to the garden while their host was distracted and this private little alcove was about to be a lot less private.

“Great,” Madara grumbled. “Back to the celebrations then. You know, if he wanted to give us proper thanks then maybe he should have asked whether we even enjoy public events like this. Because neither of us do. A week alone would have been much nicer than all this crap.”

“Do not think this is the end of this conversation. I don’t care how tired we are when the day ends, I’m not done with you just yet.” Tobirama lifted one eyebrow to punctuate how serious he was but the most interesting part of his expression was the curl of his lips and everything they promised with just one little smirk. Quite suddenly Madara found himself breathless all over again.

Unable to respond to that without embarrassing himself, too afraid of the colors he might turn if he asked what the man meant by that, all he could do was nod and spring to his feet without another word. They wandered arm in arm back the way they had come until they could feel underdeveloped civilian chakra only a few feet away then separated just before a few partygoers rounded a corner and greeted them with alcohol heavy on their breath. Someone must have opened another bottle of plum wine while they were gone.

If he’d thought all the days before were hard to get through while keeping his silence Madara realized now that he hadn’t known what true torture was. Feeling Tobirama’s gaze on him for the rest of the day, meeting eyes in silence and knowing even a fraction of what was running through that beautiful mind, he’d never been so close to driving himself insane. Every time they brushed up against each other in even the most innocent of ways had his entire body on fire. His mouth was dry and his fingers twitching, heart racing inside his chest as the memory of what happened in the garden played through his mind on repeat again and again and again. If his life depended on it he could not have recalled more than five minutes collectively of what happened for the rest of the many hours they were forced to stay out and be polite for the public eye.

Whether Tobirama was able to keep track of their surroundings Madara couldn’t say but for himself he knew only that they were led to another room inside the palace after the Daimyo finally returned and that several people attempted to draw him in to conversation, all of whom probably left with the impression that he had lost what little there had ever been of his mind. Not that he cared in the slightest what any of these people thought of him. It wasn’t like he was someone who typically attracted a lot of potential clientele to their village anyway.

Dinner, when it was finally late enough, was another kind of special anguish. With the windows dark and the room lit by candles the atmosphere was almost romantic, giving Madara terrible gushy urges to lean in to his husband’s side or make a fool of himself with the sort of nonsense mushy drivel usually reserved for terrible poetry. In retrospect he later decided it was a good thing he was prevented from such mortifying actions but in the moment it was only irritating not being able to follow through on the hot-eyed looks they traded each time they were unobserved. No boring small talk over dinner could ever hold his interest quite like the feeling of Tobirama tracing the edges of his palm out of sight under the table.

Just the same as all the other days since they arrived in the capital, they were finally released from socializing only long after the moon had risen and they were both dragging their feet as they trudged through the hallways to the room they shared. All that kept Madara's eyes from drooping was the electricity that had been buzzing in his veins since that afternoon as he waited impatiently until the moment they could be alone.

Slipping inside the room and closing the door felt almost like stepping in to a whole other world after holding so much tension for so long. The complete silence and lack of other bodies crowding the space left him mentally scrambling for a way to describe the opposite of claustrophobia – until he very quickly had other things on his mind. Madara gasped as Tobirama’s hands grasped his shoulders and spun him around, pushing until he stumbled back against the wall and continuing forward until they were crashing together in a frantic kiss.

Almost immediately his fingers were hopelessly tangled in fistfuls of silver hair, a lewd sound escaping that would have made him curl away with shame if he weren’t so entirely invested in pulling his husband closer. Tobirama seemed more than okay with this plan. If Madara had experienced any doubts about whether the man was as eager as himself they would have been tossed out the window the moment he heard his reticent partner make the single most frantic sound he had ever heard in his life, a whining moan that sounded as though it had been dragged up from the very base of his spine. The sound of it sent shivers racing down Madara's own spine and made him gasp in to their kiss.

“Say it again,” Tobirama demanded in a breathy whisper, syllables broken with each ragged pant for air.

“I love you.” Each time they passed his lips the words tasted sweeter and sweeter.

“_Gods_.”

The next thing he knew the room was spinning as Tobirama pulled them away from the wall and sent them tumbling down on to the bed, crawling over him like a predator.

“Okay not the reaction I was expecting but I can go with this,” Madara chuckled nervously.

“Mm and I do so appreciate your cooperation,” his partner leered.

As unexpected as it was to be almost literally tossed on to the bed he couldn’t say he was in any way against this turn of events. Having Tobirama’s body push him against a wall was an entirely different sensation than feeling all six feet of solid muscle pressing him down in to the mattress, their legs entwined and two strong arms bracketing either side of his head. Madara had spent the entirety of his almost twenty-two years of life thinking himself the prime example of an alpha male. It was a surprise now to discover just how much he enjoyed being pinned by his confident husband.

It was also a surprise to feel an unmistakable hardness against his thigh and know that Tobirama’s thoughts were running along quite similar paths to his own, although probably still very different. He was, after all, the only one between them with any experience in these matters. More than anything it was the fact that it was a foreign sensation which made him jerk away with a startled expression.

“What’s wrong?” Tobirama asked, freezing in place immediately until he understood the sudden shift.

“Nothing!” Madara bit nervously at his lip. “I just…you…I can feel…” Just blurting out that he could feel the man’s cock felt incredibly awkward and yet he had no idea how else to phrase it. His point must have gotten across somehow, though.

“Ah. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Instead of leaning in to kiss him again the idiot pulled away and began to frown, which just would not do. Madara squirmed with a frown of his own which definitely was not a pout in any way. “You’re not making me uncomfortable,” he said.

“Are you certain of that? Because you can’t look me in the eye right now.”

“Well excuse me for being embarrassed! This is new to me! And I wanted- shut up!”

“No, you were going to say something there,” Tobirama insisted.

“It was nothing!”

Eyeing him doubtfully, his husband very carefully shifted so the hardness against his thigh was lifted entirely away. “There was definitely something.”

“Fine! I wanted…it to go well. I know the way you grew up this sort of thing didn’t have any great meaning but to my people giving yourself to someone is important, it’s showing them that you can truly be vulnerable in their presence without fear, and I’ve built it up in my head. A lot. And I might be a _little _worried about messing it up.”

Clearly that was nothing close to the answer Tobirama was expecting. Madara shifted and squirmed a bit more under the weight of the unreadable eyes staring down at him. Both of them having danced around this subject to avoid the possibility of pressure of making each other uncomfortable in any way, he’d never had a chance to admit some of the fears that had been on his mind whenever he thought about the fact that someday they would lie together as married couples do. Most of those fears revolved around the fact that he was the one who had no idea what he was doing and that made him the one likely to do something utterly stupid.

Like he was already doing, ironically, as he had apparently ruined the mood.

“Anata, it’s alright if you’re not ready.”

“What?”

Tobirama leaned down to rest their foreheads together. “Just because you said the words I don’t expect it to be like flipping a switch. If you’re not ready that’s fine. I didn’t mean to paw at you like an animal. Not being able to kiss you all day has been driving me wild; I may have gotten a little too enthusiastic.”

“I never said I wasn’t ready!” Madara insisted, his cheeks hot and his throat tight. “I just want to...to do it right!”

“You could hardly do anything _wrong_.”

“Easy for you to say. You know me, I’ll probably trip and fall out of the bed or something. This isn’t even our bed!” He was still very definitely not pouting.

His husband, on the other hand, was now smiling very gently. “Perhaps it would be best to put this subject on hold until we do return to our own bed then. When we’re home in a place where you feel more comfortable then we can talk about it, yes?”

“Talking is not what I have been imagining,” Madara grumbled. Then he regretted it when he was met with another leer.

“I will freely admit to being very interested in whatever you’ve been imagining. We’ll have to come back to that when we have a chance to talk about this again.”

Mortified, Madara wriggled both hands between their bodies so he could push the man away. If he were honest it was the last thing he wanted to be separated right then but Tobirama was right about one thing. He would be a lot more at ease in their bed. As comfortable as this one was and as cushy as it had been lavishing themselves in the opulence of the capital city he would always prefer the house in which the two of them had fought hard to make a proper home. This was not the place he wanted to have solidified in his memories whenever he remembered their first time.

Sitting up and scrubbing at the back of his neck, Madara reluctantly admitted they should be going to sleep anyway. Inevitably they would be woken earlier than desired tomorrow and invited to yet another breakfast with too many dishes to ever be properly appreciated in one sitting. His usual routine when getting ready for bed involved closing himself away in the bathroom to change his clothes but it felt almost ridiculous to do so when he had very nearly just taken them off for the man beside him. Yet the idea of just stripping himself naked after they had decided now was not the time seemed like it would be a tease more than anything else.

“Can you turn around?” he asked quietly. Tobirama did so with a look that made it clear to Madara how significant a moment that was for his husband, like a barrier being crossed, like trust held out between two palms and given freely without regrets.

After he had changed he rolled under the covers and buried his face in the pillow, trying not to blush as he heard the rustling sounds of Tobirama briefly getting naked only a handful of feet away from him. When the rustling stopped it was followed by footsteps and then more rustling as the mattress dipped and his husband slid in behind him to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him backwards. Embarrassingly, his first thought was to note that Tobirama was actually still a little hard. Not quite as noticeably but still enough that he had to have a very firm talk with himself very quickly about not bringing attention to things they had agreed not to talk about for now. Then, of course, Tobirama went and emptied his head of every other thought with only three words whispered in his ear.

“I love you,” he said, sending thrills all throughout Madara's body.

To say them back with absolute confidence was the greatest joy and honor.


	34. Chapter 34

“Was it necessary to send us off with a two hour breakfast?” Madara rolled his neck, looking for the angle to crack it so he could finally be free of the crick that had been bothering him for the past forty minutes. At his side Tobirama scoffed.

“After the consistent excess of the last seven days do you really need to ask that question?”

“I suppose not. It was all just so…so…”

“Excessive.”

“Yes!” Madara paused to sigh with relief when his neck finally cracked and then immediately took up the rant again. “I mean, sure he’s an important man. In a way. But he would probably be a lot more _useful_ if he actually did something with his time other than pander to his own entertainment and turn every occasion in to a massive party!”

Tobirama hummed. “When I was last in the city he had no time for celebration because he was tending to important matters. I think perhaps he simply saw an opportunity. From what I heard things have only just settled down after the attempted coup, the last of the conspirators have seen their trials, so it’s possible he was using the excuse of celebrating our good deeds as a chance to bring the morale back up and reinvent the image of his reign. If the people remain unhappy and tense that can only create a perfect breeding ground for more discontent.”

“You know, I hate it when you’re logical.”

“I did know that.”

Madara harrumphed and quickened his pace to pull ahead as a sign of his own discontent. How dare Tobirama disprove his irritation with logical reasoning and simple deductions? Of course he couldn’t stay mad for long when Tobirama caught up and smoothly wove their fingers together in a firm grip. The man really did know his weaknesses.

Pretending to be grumpy and ignoring his husband was supposed to be a punishment for Tobirama and yet as the silence continued Madara discovered that it was really just as terrible for him. Silence gave room for all the thoughts he’d been trying to keep at the back of his mind to rush forward and make themselves known all over again. Naughty thoughts. Thoughts that definitely did not make continuing to walk any easier. He’d been trying not to let his mind travel down this path since they woke up and for this very reason.

As a grown man several years past when shinobi were considered to reach adulthood he knew it was just a little ridiculous to still be nervous about the idea of intimacy. He knew that not everyone from his clan actually followed the traditions as strictly as he did, people like Susumu-sensei who cared very little for whether or not they ever fell in love and gave their bodies away whenever they felt the desire to do so. With the way the Senju were raised he would not be surprised if there were still a part of Tobirama that thought he was being completely ridiculous holding out for such a subjective landmark as knowing for sure that he was in love. And yet here he was walking in silence and knowing that he was ready but also mentally spinning in circles with anxiety. Feeling anxious about this felt a little stupid, admittedly. Sex was supposed to feel good but even if it didn’t it wasn’t like he’d never felt pain before. Madara wasn’t really sure what precisely was making him nervous, actually, which only served to make him feel even more stupid.

Whatever stupid catch his brain kept stumbling on he was determined not to let it have any effect. He’d known for a while now that he _desired_ his husband. No stupid overemotional thoughts should have the power to stop him from experiencing those things if he wanted to.

But kami forbid Tobirama notice. Madara wasn’t sure he would outlive the embarrassment of Tobirama having to console him again for not being ready. He was a grown ass adult and he did not need anyone to hold his hand when he was nervous like a small child afraid of the dark. It was nice but he didn’t need it. Especially not because every time he was allowed a glimpse behind his husband’s barriers Madara couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt for how badly he could tell the man wanted to take the next step between them. At some point he really needed to find a way to show his gratitude for Tobirama’s patience and accommodation as they danced around each other trying to navigate the maze of their own emotions.

Eventually the silence grew overwhelming and Madara struck up a conversation on the first thing to cross his mind, blurting it out with little thought just to distract himself from the stupidity he had already gone over in his own mind a hundred times and more.

“You look a lot better now than you did a few months ago.” It took a great deal of effort not to shrink with regret as soon as the words were out of his mouth but somehow he managed to stand strong under the baffled look Tobirama turned to give him, clearly unsure if he should be insulted or not.

“I think I need a little more context on that statement.”

“You just look healthier I mean. Because you’re sleeping properly and you’re not skipping breakfast to avoid me. And…I’m glad.”

“Oh.” Tobirama paused, probably trying to think of how to respond to that. “Did I really look all that bad?”

Angling his steps to walk a little closer, Madara pressed their shoulders together in an approximation of a hug. “Sometimes you looked like you were going to fall apart in a strong breeze. Your eyes didn’t just have bags, they had entire suitcases. I’m sorry that I turned you in to that.”

“The misunderstandings between us had fault on both sides,” Tobirama assured him.

“Did they though? You thought you already knew me after writing all those letters. There’s no way you could have known it wasn’t me answering them.”

“And there is no way you could have known I ever wrote them in the first place. Looking back, I should not have been so aggressive in my approach. Neither of us reacted very well to each other that night but we’re happy now and that’s more important, yes?”

Madara looked away to hide his smile. “I suppose I could be considered happy.”

“Oh is that how it is?”

When he peeked back over Tobirama was smiling too with a light in his eyes that Madara had gotten to know quite well. His husband was indeed happy and there was a domestic sort of joy in knowing he was the cause of it that made everything inside him settle quite suddenly. All of the nerves that had been bothering him hung suspended as he wondered why he was wasting the effort to worry when Tobirama had proven time and time again that he would always be kind and caring. The reserved front he presented to the rest of the world was just that: a front. In private he was so much more. He was everything Madara had ever dreamed of.

The rest of their day didn’t feel quite as nerve-wracking as the beginning had. Even the casual unhurried pace they travelled at was able to keep him in a calm, contented mood as they made their way towards home. Since they weren’t rushing the journey would be stretched out over two days again so they made camp that night by the edge of a small lake from which Tobirama caught several fish for their dinner. After spending a week in a massive bed that could have fit three other couples on the mattress with them he almost expected the limited space of their tent to feel a little claustrophobic but once they bedded down he realized that it made very little different since they slept curled together anyway.

Passing through the village gates after the second day of travel was done with very little fanfare, the gate guards waving them in after a brief chakra scan to ensure their identities. They were still proudly expressing their satisfaction with the improvements in village security when they passed under a second set of gates marking the entrance to the Uchiha district and were nearly mowed down by a relatively small body. Madara watched with disgustingly sappy thoughts as Tobirama allowed Kagami to practically crawl all over him in greeting after being apart for more than a week.

“Where’s my hello?” he demanded after the initial happy screeching had passed.

“Hi!” Kagami smiled at him and then immediately turned back to his teacher, who was now shaking lightly with suppressed laughter. “I’m glad you’re back sensei! Are you going to leave again soon? Please don’t! When can we train again? I promise I did all my exercises every day while you were gone!”

Neither of them could get much of a word in edgewise as he prattled on, recounting in almost painful detail all the progress he’d made on one of the simple chakra exercises Tobirama had been teaching him. Admittedly his husband did look fairly impressed, deeply engaged in just a few sentences, so even though it chafed a little Madara very carefully stayed quiet and allowed the two of them to reconnect.

One might think he wouldn’t be quite so protective of Tobirama’s time after just spending more than a week together all day every day but for the most part those days had been filled with social events and attending scheduled performances where they were required to sit prominently as guests of honor. Having the Daimyo’s regard should not be this troublesome. Now that they were home he’d been hoping they could at least enjoy the rest of the day with just each other, no interruptions and no forced socialization, but it seemed his dreams were not to be. Kagami followed them all the way home and invited himself inside to continue chattering away as Tobirama puttered around the kitchen to whip them all up a very late lunch.

It wasn’t until he very gently mentioned that the two of them needed to unpack that the boy seemed to talk himself out but even then he extracted several promises before he left for Tobirama to give up his lunch hour the next day so the two of them could meet at their favorite training grounds. The sound of his little legs stumbling down the porch steps faltered for a few moments only to be followed with the impact of shoes against dirt belying the leap he must have taken, bounding everywhere as he was wont to do. In his wake Tobirama stood in the middle of their living room holding his travel bag and sighed almost wistfully.

“He’s getting so big.”

“As long as he stays shorter than me I’ll be happy,” Madara grumbled, turning away to head for the laundry room. The sound of Tobirama chuckling followed him down the hall.

“Most of your clansmen tend around the same height as you but at the rate he’s sprouting up I don’t know if you can count on that.”

Throwing his pack down so he could tear it open in search of all the dirty laundry he had accrued, Madara harrumphed, repeating the sound louder when he stood up to feel a hand slipping around his waist. “Growth. What a ridiculous notion. All children should stay small.”

“Smaller than you, you mean?”

“Yes!” Tossing his clothes in the right baskets was a little awkward while being held against another solid body but he didn’t really want to pull away so he made it work. “They stay small forever, I stay young forever, all the elders can kick the bucket because they’re nosey old coots with outdated ideas, and everyone gets to be happy.”

Tobirama pressed a quick smooch to the side of his head. “It sounds like the perfect world.”

Choosing to ignore the dry tone those words had been delivered in, Madara nodded magnanimously and waited until Tobirama released him to sort out his own laundry. Then he gathered up the rest of his things and made his way upstairs to sort them out. Nothing had ever been quite as relieving as walking in to his own bedroom knowing that everything in this room belonged only to them and no one would ever dare to disturb them here. It was like walking in to a haven, an oasis, a pocket of calm removed from the rest of the world. The moment he was inside all plans of unpacking flew out the window. Madara forced himself to at least set his bag down against the dresser before slipping away to the bathroom to rinse of his hands and face.

Then he returned to the bedroom, shed his outer layers, and let his body collapse across the familiar surface of their mattress just as Tobirama walked through the door behind him.

“Someone is happy to be home,” his husband noted and Madara let out a quiet purr. “Not even going to finish sorting your things?”

“It can wait,” he murmured.

“Your things can wait, perhaps, but it will drive me insane if I don’t unpack my own.”

Listening to the sounds of the other man rummaging around the room, just the quiet domestic sounds of everyday life, somehow worked as the most soothing lullaby. Madara drifted off before he even realized what was happening, startling awake from his impromptu power nap perhaps ten minutes later when Tobirama shut the door to the bathroom. A moment later there came the sounds of the shower running and he smiled. He was not the only fastidious one between them.

Now that he’d had his little moment of lethargy he felt just refreshed enough to sit up and stare consideringly at where he’d dropped his possessions. Should he unpack? Tobirama had said it would bother him not to unpack his own things but he hadn’t said anything about Madara's. At the very least he should probably move his bag so it was a little less in the direct path of where either of them would be walking. Being someone who tended towards clumsiness in the mornings, he could testify that the less tripping hazards present the better.

A dissatisfied groan rumbled up in his throat as he forced himself to swing him legs out and stand up slowly. Standing up was so much worse when he could have been lying down. A few more dissatisfied rumblings escaped him as he snatched up the pack and poked his nose in, trying to decide if he had the energy to sort through the contents. He decided no. The canvas made a very light thump when it landed in the corner and the sound was further muted by the sound of footsteps coming back in to the room. Either Tobirama was just that tired, dragging his feet along the carpet, or he was putting in a conscious effort to make sound when he walked so neither of them startled the other.

It was still a little surprising to feel soft lips pressing against the back of his shoulder, pale skin flashing in his peripherals as Tobirama brought one hand up to push the giant mass of Madara's hair aside so he could leave a row of kisses down the back of his neck as well.

“Welcome home,” he said and Madara furrowed his brows in confusion.

“You came home with me.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t give you a proper welcome.”

It took a few moments of thinking for him to read between the lines, distracted as he was with the gentle affections. When he realized what the other meant he flushed a little. Partly with embarrassment for being so slow and partly with a shameful sort of eagerness. Maybe he should have showered too.

“Go on then,” he breathed. “Show me what you think a proper welcome home entails.”

Tobirama wasted no time pulling him around to face each other and Madara barely had a chance to register the almost serious expression before he was swept away with a deep kiss that gave him a new understanding of that old phrase about floating on nine clouds or something. Already a genius at many things, it was almost unfair that he should be so good at this too and yet Madara could not find any desire inside him to complain. He was the one that benefitted the most after all.

Strong hands framed his hips in a tight grip but they did not linger for very long. Soon they were travelling upwards, skimming along his sides in a touch that somehow felt almost lewd despite there still being layers of clothing between them, dipping inwards to caress his chest before sliding up his vulnerable neck to bury themselves deep in the mess of his hair. When Tobirama gripping two handfuls tightly Madara whimpered at the sensation. He’d never thought having his hair pulled would actually be a pleasant experience but he wasn’t exactly upset to be proven wrong on the point. If Tobirama wanted to prove him wrong on anything in the bedroom he couldn’t say he would ever be upset about it when the results were this good.

At some point he realized that he was doing little more than standing still and allowing himself to be pawed at by the admittedly welcome beast in front of him. What exactly he should be doing was difficult to figure out with such a pleasant distraction taking up most of his cognitive processes but eventually he muddled his way in to a decision that maybe wrapping his arms around the strong shoulders before him would be nice. That was simple enough. Bringing his hands in to proximity with all that pale soft hair made him wonder if Tobirama would make the same noises as him to have the strands gently tugged on.

He did.

Such a delicious discovery was enough to keep his attention riveted further, enough distraction that he barely noticed the shuffle of their feet as he was led slowly backwards until he was caught between the solid body in front and a tall dresser behind. It was not a trap he was upset to find himself in. Not even when those clever fingers stopped tugging senseless patterns in the back of his head to slide down instead and pull inquisitively at the knot of his obi. All he could do was pull Tobirama in a little closer and tilt his head the way his husband did sometimes to deepen their kiss, satisfied to earn himself a quiet groan of appreciation.

What finally caught his attention and brought him back out of the building haze was the sensation of cool air against his chest when the panels of his shirt were tugged a few inches apart. His eyes fluttered open to find Tobirama watching him with a very careful expression, something almost reserved in his eyes caging in the heat Madara could see just waiting to pounce. For a moment he couldn’t imagine what would make such a confident man hesitate at a time like this. Then he scoffed.

“If I haven’t stopped you yet then I think it’s safe to say I’m fine with this.”

“You’re sure?”

“Stop asking me if I’m sure,” Madara growled, “and do something. I’m not the one that knows what he’s doing here, you’re sort of the one in charge.”

He hadn’t intended for his words to be sexy in any way, had been trying to cover up any lingering hints of the last of his insecurities, but he realized what they might have sounded like only when Tobirama’s eyes widened and the cage around his obvious desires fell away with one heated look.

“If I’d known that’s how you felt about it…”

With a wicked grin he dropped his gaze to trace the red spreading out across Madara's cheeks. Which, of course, only made the blush darken.

Flustered, Madara did the only thing he could think of to prove that he was completely and totally not at all in any way _whatsoever_ embarrassed by what was happening. A quiet snarl of determination echoed through his teeth as he reached down to fumble some more with the knot in his obi, a little too tight after getting dressed in the limited space of their shared tent that morning. He continued to struggle with uncharacteristically clumsy fingers until another pale set laid themselves over his own.

“May I?” Tobirama asked and he swallowed against a lump in his throat.

“If you want to.” He couldn’t think of a good way to say the idea of Tobirama undressing him was incredibly erotic and he had no problems indulging in one of the most common fantasies he had been able to cobble together with his lack of experience and vivid imagination.

Yet somehow in all of his imaginings he had apparently been forgetting one key detail that ramped up the heat exponentially. Those eyes. Keeping still was difficult when he found himself equally caught up in the feathery touches of clothing sliding away from his body and the heat of those pretty red eyes increasing with every inch of skin revealed. Madara had expected to feel exposed, expected he would need to fight off the instinctive urge to cover himself up. He did not expect how feeling the weight of that hot gaze made him want to puff out his chest and preen like a bird fluffing out its feathers for display. Feeling so desirable gave him the confidence to reach out and slip his fingers in to his husband’s clothing so they were undressing each other at the same time.

When he stood bare in nothing but his fundoshi and a puddle of cloth at his feet Madara easily gave in to the tug on his hands drawing him over towards the bed, though he did frown petulantly at having his work interrupted. Tobirama was still wearing trousers. By the light pressure on his shoulder he could tell his partner was trying to topple him backwards but he resisted and reached instead for the ties he was still trying to unknot. For a moment he was distracted by a hot flash of triumph for being allowed to do as he wanted with the other man’s body.

Then the ties came undone and Tobirama’s pants slithered down his body to tangle around his ankles and Madara's eyes were, surprisingly, drawn lower than the naughty bits he thought he would be staring at. His gaze was instead caught on the ring of thick pink scar tissue around mid-thigh on the leg to his right.

“Ah,” Tobirama mumbled in an offhanded fashion. “That would be from one of the more violent laboratory accidents before we improved safety measures. I did say we got the leg reattached just fine.”

“Gods above,” Madara swore under his breath and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress.

Slipping a hand underneath his chin, Tobirama lifted his face up so their eyes could meet. “Does it bother you?”

“The idea of losing you to your own enthusiastic stupidity? Yes. A bit of scarring? Not in the least.”

“Understandable. Well then, allow me to distract you from such thoughts.”

Grinning suddenly in a way that reminded Madara of a hungry beast, Tobirama freed himself from the pool of his own clothing with a couple of swift, elegant motions then reached down to take Madara's hands in his own. He drew them to either side of his fundoshi with one eyebrow lifted in question but left the option of what to do from there to Madara, busying himself with combing his fingers through the long mane of dark hair that always seemed to fascinate him.

It took a few moments to frantically gather his courage but eventually Madara was able to convince his trembling digits to pull at the twisted fabric before him. Their position, he realized only as he pulled, was much more suggestive than he was sure Tobirama had intended. With him seated and the other still standing his face was at the perfect level to stare as a long pale cock was revealed to hang full and heavy between them only a few inches from his startled gaze. Despite many visits to different public onsen and bathhouses he’d never actually taken the time to be so rude as to stare at another man’s genitals. The only frame of reference he had was his own body. As far as cocks go he supposed there wasn’t anything too different between them, they were both the same general shape with small differences in length or girth, so he wasn’t entirely sure what made his mouth water as he continued to stare.

His staring must have gone on for too long and he only stopped when a low rumbling chuckle jerked him back to reality, Tobirama bending down to kiss him soundly. When his husband pulled away Madara flushed deeply.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You are more than free to appreciate me with that expression any time you like, anata.”

“Oh gods…” Madara covered his face with both hands, mortified, too scared to ask what sort of embarrassing look he’d been wearing just now.

He ignored the swish of footsteps across their carpeted floor, grateful that Tobirama was making the effort to make noise but content to stay hidden in his little pocket of shame until the footsteps returned and he squawked indignantly to be pushed down on the mattress. Tobirama laughed unrepentantly but was at least polite enough to wait for Madara to scramble back a little further before crawling up in to the bed himself.

And he did not stop crawling in a deliciously predatory way until he had fit himself right between Madara's legs, hovering over him with both arms holding his weight to either side of Madara's head and hot eyes tracing lines across the willing sacrifice underneath him.

“You would not believe,” he whispered, “how badly I have wanted this.” Something in the way he spoke gave the impression that he wasn’t only talking about sex but reading between the lines would have to wait for a day when Madara was not entirely focused on his need for discovery, the all-consuming heat building inside him that, between them, only Tobirama would know how to sate.

“Maybe I wouldn’t. But you can have it now.”

“I want all of you, anata. Every part of you. Every inch and every thought and every beat of your heart; I want all of it to belong to me.”

Struggling to draw breath, Madara reached up to pull his husband in and whispered in the fractional space left between their lips. “I already do.”

What possessed him to word his sentence like that he couldn’t say but the effect was more than worth any lingering embarrassment he might have felt for declaring himself so openly. Something in Tobirama’s eyes shattered in the best possible way and he flowed forward to take Madara's lips as a warrior takes his victory, unhesitant and unrestrained, no apologies and no quarter given. Keeping up with his kisses would have been difficult enough even without the distraction of his wandering hands. Madara writhed as the roamed freely across his body leaving trails of fire in their wake. If he gasped Tobirama deepened their kiss. If he arched Tobirama pressed their bodies closer.

It wasn’t until he felt those overwhelming fingers pulling at something on his hip that he remembered there was a single barrier left between them but he was so aroused he couldn’t think of a single reason it should not be done away with. Who had time to be embarrassed? Clearly he was much too busy gasping for air and writhing under the sensation of Tobirama’s hard cock rutting in to the crease of his groin, tucked in alongside his own and oh so good the way they rubbed together.

The exact progression of events existed to Madara as a hazy blur of heat and touch and lewd sounds he hadn’t even realized he was capable of making. Somehow Tobirama’s hands managed to be everywhere at once and yet always just where he needed them to be, stroking without teasing and driving him ever higher towards heights he barely recognized. He’d touched himself before. Obviously. But no shameful quick strokes of his own hand could ever compare to the feeling of teeth scraping up the sides of his neck while Tobirama’s weight rocked them both in to the mattress in a steady rhythm. Madara hardly had time to recognize his end before it was coiling tighter and tighter and he fisted both hands in his husband’s hair, throwing his head back with gritted teeth and praying _not yet, not yet, not yet_.

“It’s alright,” Tobirama’s voice rumbled against the shell of his ear in panting breaths. “Come for me, husband. Let me watch you fall apart so I can put you back together – and take you apart again.”

If Madara whimpered there was only the two of them here to know and never tell another soul.

Then for a few eternal moments the very knowledge of his own existence was wiped from his mind, whimpers and any other reactionary noises entirely forgotten in the rush of cumming harder than he ever had before. His back arched off the bed with the force of it and his arms lifted off their own accord to wrap around Tobirama’s shoulders and hang on for dear life. When he hit the mattress again he was panting harder than the first time his sensei made him run fifty laps around the old Uchiha compound.

“Oh sweet flames,” he whimpered. “You’re going to do that _again_?”

“I’m going to do that better,” Tobirama corrected him, pulling away to leer seductively. Madara gaped at him stupidly. The very concept of pleasure any better than that seemed impossible but he’d never known this man to be a liar.

“Prove it.”

Again it seemed he had blurted out exactly the right thing to say without meaning to, something he absently noted would bode well for them doing this again in the future. With all the hunger in his eyes of a man deprived his appetites for more than half a year Tobirama crawled back down the bed and drew his tongue straight through the mess Madara had just made of his own stomach. It should have been gross. Madara wondered if he could pass the heat in his cheeks off as anger instead of the arousal coursing through him, making him twitch no matter than he had just experienced release.

Why, in the name of all things holy, had he never tested his own refraction time before? What a waste of an inquisitive youth.

On the upside Tobirama seemed determined to test that for him. Whatever magic he was working with that tongue of his certainly seemed to be doing a good job of bringing Madara's body back to attention must faster than he would have thought possible. The sensations were so overwhelming he almost missed it when hands began to roam his skin again, just another layer in the sensory overload, but when he did finally notice Madara was glad that he did.

It would have been all too easy to dismiss the touches as no more than aimless pawing at his person, as sensual groping with no purpose other than to arouse. And he might have dismissed them as such but for the tenderness in Tobirama’s face when his husband flicked those pretty red eyes up to meet his own for a single brief moment. Then he understood. Madara closed his own eyes and drew in a breath that shuddered, body shaking, emotions almost as strong as the touches driving him wild – touches that said more than words ever could. He’d known since the two of them finally started getting to know each other that Tobirama had been raised in a world where he learned to speak with his actions rather than his language. And he’d even thought he was coming to understand the way his husband expressed himself but _oh_ how he hadn’t known what he hadn’t known.

No kind gesture of making tea or carrying him to bed when he fell asleep on the couch could ever compare to the messages conveyed in the tender hands tracing every inch of his body like memorizing a masterpiece with touch alone. Every press of those fingers was a declaration of love, every stroke a promise, and each time the touches paused to linger somewhere in particular Madara wished he knew the words being pressed in to his skin like reverent prayers. He would learn this language too if it killed him.

And it might, he decided, if the pleasure continued to mount beyond the bounds of what he could understand. By the time one of those wandering glorious hands slid around to trace the edges of his most intimate place Madara was almost too caught up in the beat of his own heart to notice. He definitely noticed when a little oil was added.

_“Hah!_” 

“Should I slow down?” Tobirama’s voice rumbled from where he was lavishing attention on the line of Madara's oblique muscles.

“N-no! Shut up! Just…that’s not…I didn’t expect…shut up and don’t stop, damn it!”

He ignored the chuckle which meant his partner was laughing at him in favor of biting down on a drawn out moan, entirely engaged with the sensation of a long thin finger sliding inside him for the first time. Suddenly he regretted all the times he had staunchly decided against touching this part of himself and yet somehow at the same time praised himself for holding out. As unprepared as he was for this new wave of sensations he was glad that Tobirama was the one to help him discover them.

Or maybe it was just that he was glad he’d never explored himself like this with anyone he was related to in the same house where they would have surely heard the shameless noises spilling out of him one after another. Even the palm firmly tucked over his mouth couldn’t contain the litany of gasps and moans – and it was only one finger! Madara's eyes fairly rolled in to the back of his head when he felt a second nudging at his entrance.

“Will you even fit?” He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud – in a very breathy voice – until he felt Tobirama’s weight shifting off the mattress and looked down to see one pale eyebrow lifted in a disgustingly attractive smug expression.

“That’s what the stretching is for, love.”

Madara would have responded if he could string anymore words together but the friction of Tobirama’s fingers sinking inside him and the warm glide of the oil between them stole his attention back much too easily. His eyes snapped open to stare sightlessly at the ceiling with shock when he felt a hot tongue laving at his nipples but, already well past the point of being able to separate the massive tangle of input, it was hard to tell whether he really did like the feeling or if he only did because the rest of his body was so sensitive already. Not that it mattered. He felt good and safe and that was all he cared about.

Three fingers felt almost like too much at first but by that point Tobirama was smart enough to move up and distract him with kisses, for which Madara was grateful. For every inch their bodies that he could feel pressing together he felt grounded, captured in the moment, as though the mere presence of the man he loved was a safety net without which he might actually fly to pieces. His mind did its best to focus on the kisses while his body could do nothing but shake.

When the fingers inside him pulled away Madara shocked himself by almost whining for them to come back and he had to bite down on his lip to stop the flood of questions that tried to spill out, forcing himself to stay quiet and observe as Tobirama leaned away to pick up the bottle of oil he hadn’t seen before. He’d had sex explained to him when puberty hit. And he’d had to sit through it all again when Susumu-sensei caught him asking questions about boys instead of girls. He knew what the oil was for, why Tobirama was pouring out a little more. Unexpected was the muted noise that made Tobirama turn his head away as the tips of his ears turned pink.

“Eager?” Madara couldn’t help but tease in a breathless voice.

“More so than I have ever been before,” his partner admitted. “Your people may have been on to something with the idea that love changes this experience.” Wryness twisted his lips a little but Tobirama shrugged away any shame he might have felt for his words rather easily.

“Are you…”

The way his words trailed off must have made him sound unsure. Tobirama hesitated, pulling his hand away from where he had been spreading it on himself and capping the oil to let it drop to the side of the bed. “Not if you–”

“Kami, stop asking if I’m ready!” If he added enough grumpiness to his voice then maybe it would cover the lingering nerves. He only needed one look to see he hadn’t fooled anyone, that Tobirama could see right through him, and on any other day he would have appreciated that his husband knew him so well.

He didn’t say anything more, though. So that was nice. Much nicer was the kiss hot and deep that kept him centered as Tobirama shuffled his weight around to situate his body a little more comfortably between Madara's legs. When he rocked his hips forward this time it was an aborted motion that brought the head of his cock up to Madara's entrance without pushing inside, almost like a false start to warn of his intentions. And it was, apparently, a good thing that he did since every muscle in Madara's jumped with shock despite the fact that he was more than expecting it.

Tobirama broke their kiss to duck down in to his neck but he caught a flash of amusement before teeth dragging at the lobe of his ear stole the words he was about to say. He was ready the next time, resolutely keeping his muscles loose when he felt the nudge at his entrance, though there was nothing to be done for the heat in his cheeks. The nibbles on his ears turned to soft kisses trailing down his neck as the pressure increased. All the thoughts in his head melted together until all he knew was the push, the pressure, the moment before completion. Then his back was bowing up and his fingers fisting in Tobirama’s hair, eyes wide as he tried to process the sensation of being quite so full.

Only when quiet words murmuring in his ears slowly began to filter through the fog did he realize how laser focused he was on the connection between them. Slowly, gradually, the world came back in little pieces and he listened to Tobirama murmuring small reassurances in a voice that sounded like he was barely holding himself together. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one a little overwhelmed here.

“Move!” he managed to gasp eventually and Tobirama did not need to be told twice.

Curses spilled out of him immediately but the murmuring against his neck never stopped and the sound of his husband’s voice worked amazingly to keep him grounded until he was able to think through waves of pleasure he could hardly believe. But when he was able to think again he wished he could sink back in to that strange space outside of awareness. Of all the possible reactions to finally having everything he’d ever wanted in life – love, a husband, a moment they could come together and celebrate that love – the one reaction he would never have expected from himself was the urge to cry. Madara was tempted to scream at his own body for betraying him like this.

Salvation came in the form of a bitten off groan in his ear and a powerful shudder running through his limbs. Focusing on Tobirama’s pleasure was so much less mortifying than his own. And it came with the added benefit of puffing his chest out with pride because that was his doing. He was the reason Tobirama’s infamous self-control was cracking.

A little taste of that power left him craving for more, unsurprisingly. Madara wracked his distracted wrung-out brain for a way to drive his husband as close to the edge as he already was again and when an idea came to him he gave himself no time to think it through, turning his head to pant his words against the sweaty skin of Tobirama’s temple. Or he tried to, at least, most of his words broken and interrupted as he writhed under the feeling of being filled over and over in a steady rhythm.

“Feels g- you feel good! _Shit_ you- _ah_! There!” The mortification that burned through him at being so vocal was made entirely worth it when Tobirama let out an unfettered noise that could only be described as desperate, spurring him on. “I love you.”

“Nnnnh! Anata, stop.” Incredibly, Tobirama’s voice came out as a whine.

“You d-don’t – _haaah!_ – like my words?”

He did not expect Tobirama to bite at his ear again and confess in a low rush, “I like them too much, you minx.”

Yet another steady rocking of pale hips and Madara saw stars behind the fluttering of his eyelids. He wanted to say that sex wasn’t anything close to how he imagined it, so much better than the shades of minor pleasure he was able to give to himself under the covers alone, but his lungs constricted around the words and his tongue was busy crying out against pale skin where he buried his face in a strong shoulder. Sex was nothing like he could have known. Making love, he corrected himself distantly. They were making love.

It even felt like love, something he had quietly hoped for when he was young with stars in his eyes and then later mournfully rejected as romanticism as his bodily urges towards Tobirama grew more and more animalistic. He did feel like an animal, his body rolling and thrashing in his efforts to ride the hot intrusion sliding in and out, but it also felt like love in the way Tobirama surrounded him on all sides and pressed against him with as much skin as possible. Pale fingers stroking his hair. Warm lips murmuring promises in to his skin. This was base lust but it was also love and the combination made his gut twist in a way he most certainly recognized.

Someday he might achieve the same level of shamelessness as the man above him but in the state he was now there was not a force on earth that could help him find the words to warn his husband of the tension building at an unstoppable rate. Try as he might he just couldn’t force himself to say it, settling instead for pulling Tobirama up in to a frantic kiss, biting and licking in a frantic way that startled them both. He wanted to say _something_, though he had no idea where the urge was coming from. If he opened his mouth with so much frazzled energy hummed underneath his skin he was sure all that spilled out would be an endless litany of babble and nonsense – or worse, confessions of all the depraved imaginings he’d constructed in his mind and every way Tobirama had blown his expectations out of the water.

“Anata,” Tobirama’s voice brushed against his ear, husky and irresistible. “Say something else.”

“You- you told me – _nnh _– to stop!”

“Changed my mind. Shit, just, _Madara_.” He’d never heard his name in such a debauched way and Madara found he couldn’t be bothered to rationalize his husband’s change of heart. All he could do was give the man what he asked for no matter that he’d just decided it was a terrible idea. In that tone he would give Tobirama what he wanted.

“I love you,” he blurted, the first words that came to mind.

The shattered sound his husband made might have been enough to send him over the edge on its own, though they would have to lay together again for him to figure that out. With a particularly harsh snap of his hips Tobirama drove deep and hit something inside of Madara that made his vision go white and the coil inside of him snapped so hard he echoed his partner’s scream.

No orgasm had ever felt like this one. Spilling over his own fist after hurriedly palming himself under the covers was nothing like this. This was lights behind his eyes and muscles contracting, knuckles as white as the hair they gripped and throat raw with the force of expressing himself. Nothing existed outside the solidity of the man in his arms and the thickness of the length still grinding inside him as though determined to make him lose his mind entirely. Unlike the quick burst of pleasure he was used to this was an arched spine he couldn’t seem to unbend and stickiness between their bellies that he could never have caught in his fist like usual. Several minutes passed before he could hear past the ringing in his ear, the rest of the world fading back in to focus as well.

An exhausted, loopy sort of grin spread across his face when he finally heard the way Tobirama was murmuring under his breath, probably entirely unaware he was doing so judging by the soppy romantic nonsense he was spouting. They had _made love_. If he had a little more energy he might have been tempted to go shout that from the rooftops and rub it in his brother’s face. It might have taken them a few months extra to get there but they had finally – happily – consummated their marriage. This really was the rest of their lives.

Now he was exhausted and cramped and his belly was a little gross. The aftermath of sex wasn’t quite as romantic as he pictured it to be. Lazy open-mouthed kisses began traveled up his neck, down the line of his chin, and as they reached his own lips Madara thought that he could not possibly care less for the supposed reality of the situation, not when Tobirama seemed determined to keep holding him close and kiss the breath right out of him.

“You’re heavy,” he grunted finally, half-heartedly pushing at one shoulder of the body flopped over his own. Then he muffled a protesting whine as Tobirama fairly shot upright.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Without even waiting for an answer his hands were stroking wherever they could reach in what Madara had to admit was quite a soothing manner. Unnecessary but soothing all the same. He had a feeling that his side and chest were not where he was going to be sore later.

“Not used to holding my legs open this wide for this long.” Saying so brought the red back to his cheeks and he cursed it. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long for the ingrained shame of these activities to fade.

Tobirama blinked and looked down at the place where their bodies joined with one eyebrow raised, prompting Madara to cover his eyes with one hand. He didn’t need to look there! The hand stayed until he felt cool lips pressing a kiss against the back of his fingers and a voice warning him that his partner was about to pull away. He wondered for a moment why he might need warning, it was basically the same motion they been doing together for the last several minutes, he didn’t see why it should be any different now. Then Tobirama slowly began to pull away and it stole a sharp cry from him before he bit down on his lower lip to cut it off.

Okay. The warning was necessary. He really hadn’t anticipated how sensitive that area would be now.

It made sense when he thought about it. His intimate parts were usually quite sensitive to the drag of cotton as he pulled his clothing back in to place after relieving a bit of tension. But how was he supposed to know that _there_ could be quite _that_ sensitive? He opened his mouth to ask – then shut it again and wondered if sex brain was always going to trick him in to asking stupid questions.

Letting his husband clean him was somehow even more mortifying than anything else had been but all it took was one pointed look and Tobirama asking if he wanted to do it himself for Madara to subside, hand back over his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch. His good behavior was rewarded with more kisses against random patches of skin until as much of the oil had been wiped away as possible and the blankets they’d made a mess of had been straightened around them. When Tobirama crawled in to bed he only made it partway across the mattress before freezing in a rather comical four-legged stance as he caught sight of Madara's expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re…not going to get dressed?”

“I hadn’t planned to.” Sitting back on his haunches was no less comical looking, though he didn’t seem to care. “Does that make you uncomfortable? I can if you’d like me to.”

Madara glared at him. Even after everything they’d just done he was still being sweet and considerate. Unbearable. “It’s fine! Everything’s fine! Just get in the bed!”

They had just been rubbing all against each other quite intimately, after all. It really shouldn’t bother him to stay naked if all they were doing was falling asleep. As his husband crawled in Madara tried not to picture getting called out of bed for some emergency that had him booking it through the streets with his bits swinging in the breeze. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, he just knew it would be one of their brothers’ fault.

His suspicious musings were cut short by warm fingers brushing down the back of his arm. He looked round to find Tobirama smiling up at him from the pillows, arms opened in an invitation he was all too happy to accept. Burrowing in to that pale chest and breathing in the scent of sweat and love-making was much preferable to imagining catastrophes that hadn’t happened. Yet. He very nearly purred when he felt the hands on his waist dig in to slowly scratch up and down the length of his back in absent circles, a most excellent distraction no matter what stupidity was clogging up his brain.

“Will you say it one more time?”

“Hm?” Already the fog of lassitude had begun to fall over him and Madara had to fight his way through it to figure out what that meant, responding in a quieter voice. “Oh. I love you.” He hummed contentedly when the arms around him tightened.

“I love you too, Madara.”

With all his heart he believed that. It was the single most freeing assurance he had ever experienced in his life and as he lay there in their home, in their marriage bed, he wondered if he would change anything about their journey given the chance. Then he snorted very gently and determinedly settled in for a quick nap before the rest of the world came to bother them as he knew it would. What use was there in wondering about the past with such a wonderful future ahead of them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took them long enough to get to this point! As a reward for everyone's patience, I hope you enjoyed the double length chapter! ;)


	35. Chapter 35

For as many times as he had yelled at his brother for spouting similar flowery nonsense it was possible he owed Hashirama an apology or two and yet even that thought wasn’t enough to stop him from noticing just how bright the sunlight was today, how crisp the shapes of first frost on every windowpane. Every smile he passed only increased his cheer and if it wouldn’t be so out of character he might have stopped to laugh with some of the happy citizens walking by. Not even the much more reserved atmosphere of the Senju district was enough to dampen his spirits, a spring in his step all the way to his brother’s house where he let himself in without knocking as was his habit. Mito took one look at him and turned her head away to smother a laugh. 

“Good morning, ane,” he called, too cheerful to find any annoyance in her reaction to what was surely a foolish look on his own face. She waved him further in to the home without a word. With a low chuckle he followed the direction she had waved in and found Hashirama watering a few plants in a small side room they frequently claimed was meant for an eventual child. Judging by the sheer amount of flora contained within these four small walls Tobirama sometimes wondered if they weren’t a little more nervous than they let on about the idea of procreating. 

“Hi Tobi! Good morning!” His brother offered a blinding smile, trying to wave and water a small potted tree at the same time only to shake water all over the floor. 

“It certainly is a good morning. I trust you fared well while we were away?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth Hashirama dropped the watering can and hurried over to feel his forehead. “Tobi are you okay? Did you get sick on your trip?”

“Begging your pardon?”

“Oh dear! It’s worse than I thought!” 

To his utter bafflement Hashirama pulled him back out to the living room and pressed him down in to the closest chair, babbling to Mito the moment they entered her view. “Darling, my dearest, something is wrong. Could you fetch me the blanket from the couch there? He’s not acting himself!” 

“I am perfectly fine, anija.” Tobirama chuckled and then chuckled harder when the sound elicited a small fit from his sibling.

“You asked if we were okay while you were gone! You never ask that! And you’re being all polite and kind and – oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear. I hope Madara isn’t sick too!” he turned to his wife with an indecisive frown. “Should we check on him or do you think it would make him angry?”

“For goodness sake, man, I said that I’m fine! Control your husband ane!” 

“ _ Ane _ !?”

To his great amusement Hashirama's eyes rolled back in his head and he sank down on the couch next to his wife, fanning himself with one hand like a gentlelady experiencing the vapors. On any other day Tobirama knew he would have been fuming with temper at so many insults against his character – to be so worried about him simply for a little politeness! – but his mood was too good and today nothing felt wrong with the world. Today he had enough patience to simply recline in his chair and watch with a mild expression as Mito lost the battle with her own self-control and let slip one single string of giggles.

“Peace, husband, he’s perfectly fine,” she told him. 

“Now you too!?” he cried. “What is going on with you two?”

Reaching over to pat him on the knee, Mito took a few deep breaths to calm herself. “He had sex, darling, he’s just in a very good mood.”

Like the brave woman she was she made it all the way through her entire sentence before breaking down and exploding in to a full on giggling fit. Tobirama cocked his head to watch her, wishing for a moment that he could record her like the Sharingan could. What excellent blackmail this would have made. 

A very small piece of his mood was soured when Hashirama shot up on the couch with a ramrod straight back and a smile bright enough to light the entire village at the witching hour. “Oh! Excellent! Finally! I really was beginning to worry about the two of you again. Madara explained his clan’s customs to me – and I respect them! – it just doesn’t seem very healthy to me for a married couple to ignore that part of their relationship.”

“What if one person in the couple doesn’t like sex?” Tobirama asked, more in the mood for gentle teasing than to allow Hashirama of all people to offer opinions on something he thought had been going fairly well for a while now. Also it was fun to watch the man flail as though terrified he might have offended someone.

“Of course! It’s their choice! I just meant–”

“Did you ever ask Madara if he was even interested in that? How do you know I didn’t just tie him to the bed and have my way?”

Hashirama clapped both hands to the sides of his face, horrified. “Tobi! You wouldn’t!”

“But how do you know I didn’t?” He was so glad he’d come here first before visiting Touka. This was much more entertaining than her easy acceptance would have been. 

“Please tell me you didn’t? Oh Tobirama, I’m so disappointed, you two have been getting along so much better lately. He’s going to be so angry. Do you think I should go see him? Maybe I can settle him down, talk to him and keep him calm. You should apologize!” On and on he went, completely unaware of Mito rolling her eyes beside him, until finally Tobirama cut him off with a loud huff. 

“I am, quite frankly, very insulted you’re taking this so seriously. Do you honestly think I would ever force anyone in such a manner? I know I was just joking about it but it’s not  _ actually _ a joking matter.” Tobirama frowned reprovingly. “Honestly, what must you think of me?” 

He was pleased to see that brought Hashirama up short. The man fell utterly still and one could almost physically watch the wheels turning in his mind and he processed the fact that he’d been had. It seemed to take even longer for him to figure out what to do with that information but eventually he sagged back next to his wife and drew one hand down his face as though exhausted by so much difficult thought all at once. When he met Tobirama’s eyes again he was grinning in relief. 

“You really had me going there!” he said and Tobirama only shook his head.

“Only because you make it too easy for me to do so. Truly if I weren’t in such a good mood I would be very upset with you right now.” 

Hashirama laughed nervously and offered a dozen or so apologies before Tobirama let the subject drop, turning to strike up a conversation with Mito instead. The visit ended up being quite a pleasant one despite the insult he suffered at Hashirama's assumption. After all the personal gossip had been traded and Tobirama had made enough hints at the events of his rather delightful night without actually giving them any details their chat finally turned back towards the purpose of his visit. 

Where most might have spoken with their coworkers or others in their department to catch up on what had happened in the village during an absence Tobirama knew better. The best method was to hope Mito was available and in a proper mood to spill a few secrets. Butsuma may not consider her part of the official spy network but the size of her web of connections was rivalled by very few and Tobirama knew no better hub of information than his dear sister in law. All it took was a few questions worded just right and he was perfectly caught up not only on the official things he had missed but also a few unofficial ones as well, gossip that didn’t really pertain to him but could be useful if he encountered the right circumstances. 

The one little tidbit which caught his attention the most was from a team who had travelled in the opposite direction of the capitol and came back reporting strange chakra activity in the area. Without a sensor in their group they hadn’t been able to say anything more specific than that but it was just odd enough of a warning to make Tobirama curious about what anyone else travelling through the area might have to say. For a non-sensor type to feel strange chakra activity there had to be quite a large amount of it. If he were a less responsible man he might have skipped out of the village to go look in to things himself. 

Once Mito finally ran out of gossip she was willing to share he stuck around for a little while longer, bearing his brother’s teasing about how often he smiled in the few short hours of his visit and quite proud of himself for resisting the urge to retaliate even once. At least his sister in law wasn’t quite so loud and brash about her own ribbing. When he left he made his way through the backyard to pop in on Touka where he suffered through more than twice as much teasing as he’d gotten from the other two, though once again he managed to let it all flow off his back with the help of his unnaturally good mood. It was, he told himself, nice to see his beloved family so happy even if it was at his own expense. 

Leaving Touka’s he was still in high enough spirits he had to concentrate in order to keep his face from breaking out in to a ridiculous smile as he walked back home. The office could wait for tomorrow. Whatever paperwork had piled up in his absence would still be there when he was actually on the clock; maybe if he was lucky then the people who were supposed to have been covering his duties while he was away might be inspired to actually do the work before he got there. Probably not but he could hope. 

A very small bit of his good mood dissipated, however, when he reached for the front door of his home and caught a minute flare of chakra from inside. Evidently Izuna had come to visit while he was gone. Tobirama hovered with his fingers wrapped around the door handle, waffling with indecision, hoping neither of the men inside were paying enough attention to feel him there. On the one hand he wanted nothing more than to step inside and spend the rest of his day cozied up next to Madara watching his husband shiver at every touch, hyper aware of him after last night. On the other he knew that Madara had as much right as he did to catch up with family and Izuna had proven time and time again that he just couldn’t be comfortable with Tobirama in the house. Should he leave? It would be the decent thing to do. 

But when had he ever professed to be a decent person? 

In the end Tobirama turned away from the door with a sigh only to creep his way around the outside of his own home and slip in through the window like some common burglar. As long as he stayed quiet and kept his chakra low he could at least be productive here in his home office without disturbing Izuna’s visit. The man couldn’t stay forever, after all, and it wouldn’t hurt him to let his husband have at least one decent visit without the two of them ruining everything with their pointless feud. All the white flags in the world wouldn’t matter for shit if Izuna refused to accept the ceasefire he had offered. Stubborn pride would be the death of them both.

The first thing he did was wrinkle his nose and find a rag to wipe off the desk with. After so many hours in their offices at the tower this room didn’t see quite as much use as it probably should. On the all too frequent occasion either of them brought something home to finish they prefered to work in the living room where there would still be a warm body to cuddle up with in reward for being responsible. With his work space a little easier to look at Tobirama was able to comfortably settle himself in the chair he sort of wanted to steal for his own office, pulling out enough parchment to keep himself occupied for a good long while, and settled in to lose himself among the ink. A very small part of his consciousness remained focused on the other side of the house where both Izuna and Madara remained pleasantly calm; it was nice to know they weren’t fighting for once. But for the most part he pulled his chakra inwards and kept his own presence as unobtrusive as possible.

Given a chance to guess he would probably have said he expected to stay in the office for at least a couple more hours if not several. With how volatile things had been between the Uchiha siblings and Izuna stubbornly instigating fights when they were entirely unnecessary he fully understood them taking their time to enjoy a good bonding session. It was therefore quite a surprise to have the door open and both men step in to the room after barely more than a full hour had passed. They stopped as soon as they spotted him there, of course, and Tobirama was so startled all he could do was blink back at them with his own stunned expression.

“When did you get home?” Madara demanded. 

“An hour ago.”

“I didn’t even hear you come in.”

With as straight a face as possible he admitted, “I came in through the window after I sensed Izuna’s presence.” His brother in law squinted and he hurried to add to his statement. “There didn’t seem sense in disturbing you.”

As he’d thought, the man couldn’t seem to find anything wrong with that. Madara, on the other hand, was wearing a pinched face caught halfway between gratitude and annoyance. He could easily guess what thoughts were going through that beloved head, wished he had a better solution than crawling through windows in his own home. 

“Suppose I was gonna get going anyway,” Izuna murmured eventually, cutting through the awkwardness. Tobirama waved one hand. 

“Do not leave on my account if you’re enjoying your visit. I had planned to stay in here.”

“No I really was leaving anyway. Mads was just grabbing a book that I wanted to borrow.” He looked almost irritated that he didn’t actually have anything to be irritated about. 

Rather than fight him on that – he was hardly going to complain about getting what he wanted after all – Tobirama remained silent as Madara rifled through the shelves and kept his eyes on his work in an effort to ignore the tense atmosphere in the room. It was a relief when the book was finally located and Madara shooed his brother towards the front door so they could say goodbye to each other in peace. With the door left open he could have heard what they were murmuring to each other but he chose not to invade their privacy in such a manner, not after going to so much effort just to give them privacy before. 

He had bent his head back to the papers before him by the time Madara came back in to the room but dared to peek up in the hopes that he would not find irritation there, thrilled to see his luck holding out still. His husband was leaning against the door jamb with his arms folded and a particular tightness around his mouth that said he was holding back a smile. Tobirama liked to think that smile would have been at least half as soppy as the ones he had been fighting off all morning. 

“You’re home a little earlier than I expected you to be. Thought you’d be trapped at Hashirama's forever before you made it over to your cousin’s.” 

“Ah.” Tobirama gestured with one hand for his partner to come closer. “They did both have quite a bit to say.”

“Izu says it’s super obvious that we had sex last night!” Madara immediately clapped both hands over his mouth, clearly not having meant to blurt that out. He glared when Tobirama laughed but still allowed himself to be coaxed across the room. 

“My family told me the same thing – well, Mito did, it took Hashirama a while to figure out the context for my good mood.” As soon as the man was near enough Tobirama hooked his waist with one arm and tugged, pulling Madara in to his lap where he could bury his face against the neck he had so liberally covered in love bites. All under the massive volume of hair, of course, and with the way his husband usually wore it he was fairly sure they had so far gone entirely unnoticed. He wasn’t cruel enough to embarrass either of them like that. 

After squirming a little at first Madara eventually melted in to his touches with a low purr. “He said I looked really stupid.”

“Not the word I would choose to describe you. Well, not today anyway.”

“Hey!”

Tobirama laughed and distracted the man with a few more kisses to some choice locations. 

Despite having spent most of their visit sitting around the kitchen table gabbing like old men with nothing better to do apparently Madara never bothered to actually get up and make food for him and his brother, though he decided to rectify that the moment he heard Tobirama’s stomach growling. It took a bit of play fighting but eventually Tobirama relented and allowed him to get up so they could move back to the kitchen together. He did offer to help cook but Madara shooed him in to a chair with one stern finger and that was just cute enough to convince him to listen. 

While he cooked for the most part he nattered on in a way reminiscent of his best friend, though Tobirama was smart enough not to make any such comparisons out loud, and the large majority of what he talked about had to do with Izuna. He spoke on what his brother had been doing with the ANBU since being given control of the project or what he had been up to in general and all the while didn’t really seem to remember why he usually wouldn’t talk about his brother in front of his husband. Tobirama soaked up every word with a beatific smile. He might not be terribly interested in the subject matter but married couples were supposed to be able to speak to each other about anything at all; seeing Madara so free did wonders on his heart. 

As he listened Tobirama played with one of the empty mugs still sitting on the table and tuned out a little, falling in to his own thoughts. The issue of Izuna was one he could not solve himself, clearly, making peace required the cooperation of both parties. But should he really give up so soon after only a single gesture? Did a lifetime of training how to schmooze and ingratiate himself with potential allies mean nothing? If he were completely honest with himself there were many actions he could take from here and he’d known that all along, he just hadn’t wanted to admit it. Hadn’t wanted to be the one to back down and show himself as the weaker party. Really his own stubborn pride had been getting in the way almost as much as Izuna’s had and that meant he probably had almost as much of the blame on his shoulders for the ongoing state of this ridiculous feud. 

He didn’t realize just how badly he had slipped away in to his own head until Madara set a plate down in front of him with a playful scowl that said he knew he’d been ignored. Tobirama apologized by tugging him down far enough to kiss the pout from those lips. When he looked down at his lunch, however, it stirred an idea that he wanted immediately to reject off hand yet forced himself to stop and reconsider. A feud with such deep emotions required a deep gesture. His problem up until now had been that he was thinking too small. 

“I don’t know if I like the smile on your face right now,” Madara said cautiously as he sank down in to the opposite chair. 

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you’re up to something. That is an evil smile if I have ever seen one. And I lived with Izuna for most of my life, I’ve seen more than my fair share of evil smiles.”

Tobirama resisted the urge to snicker at the irony that Madara should still be so focused on his younger brother even without knowing what thoughts had led to the expression that so worried him. Instead he reached for his fork and filled his mouth with rice to excuse himself from offering any sort of reply. His husband scowled but that was fine. He could fix that again with more kisses after they had eaten. Until then he simply continued to eat and kept his plans to himself, somehow just a little more hopeful for a happy future than he had been even just this morning. 


	36. Chapter 36

The high of finally having the physical outlet to express the love he had for his husband lasted several days longer than most probably expected it to, helped along rather nicely by the fact that once he’d had a taste Madara was deliciously eager to repeat the experience. Tobirama had never felt shame for having pride in a job well done before in his life and he was not about to start now. After a week the humdrum routines of paperwork and endless meetings slowly brought him back down to earth where he once again began terrorizing the various staff members who had failed to do the work they were supposed to while he was at the capitol. 

As they drew close to the weekend he was almost strangely thankful for the high council meeting, a chance for him to sit down and at least let his legs relax from running back and forth across the village so much over the past few days. Not even the tension between their two founding idiots was enough to completely spoil his mood, the first time he’d been forced to see them both in the same room since his return, though it did dampen his spirits a little. Having Madara in the seat next to him as usual helped with that. A hand to hold under the table and a foot coyly stroking along the top of his own would undoubtedly be enough to salvage anyone’s mood. His husband had grown quite bold in quite a short amount of time now that his inner beast had finally been let out of the cage, allowed to properly explore his sexuality at last. 

No matter the distraction, however, listening to each of the clan heads make their long winded speeches with puffed up self-importance was still boring as hell and Tobirama, for once, allowed himself to just tune the lot of them out. Generally he tried to pay attention as much as possible since these windbags did have little nuggets of important information hidden between the useless chaff. And he  _ was _ usually one of the ones who kept minutes for these meetings. But the woman who had covered him for that job over the last week was still frantically writing notes again today so he felt free to kick back and let his mind wander away from whatever nonsense was shifting the dust in the air around them. Other than the random tidbits of info that was about as much good as their gabbing did. He could have someone catch him up later. 

With so much free time for his mind to wander he skipped through several topics, mentally checking off the work he had done today and the things he had left to do, planning up a few rough drafts in his imagination and working through a few problems for solutions to be implemented later. He was just turning his mind to the topic of what to cook for dinner, probably something savory as a treat for his husband, when the Shimura clan head sat down and the Hatake head stood up with a clearing of her throat. As he had with each new speaker Tobirama tuned back in to the room just to see if what the next person had to say would be in any way interesting or important. As soon as the woman began speaking he was glad he’d taken the precaution. 

“Another team passing close to the southern borders of Hi no Kuni has come back with reports of disturbing chakra activity,” she said, immediately capturing most of the room’s attention. “This time one of their number had enough sensing ability to tell us that the chakra was thicker and heavier than anything he’s ever felt before. Unfortunately his range is not very wide so he couldn’t say more than that but it’s obvious that our people have twice now encountered something like we’ve never seen before.” 

“Did they approach?” Butsuma asked from where he was all but lounging in his chair with disturbingly casual body language. 

“No, their mission report states that they did not feel equipped to engage.” 

“And did the presence appear to follow them?” 

The Hatake clan head let her eyes shift pointedly to the window outside where the weather and all of their people were perfectly calm, if a little cold. “No. I should think it did not.” 

“Right then. I don’t think it’s anything to worry about then, do you?” Butsuma shrugged and reached for one of the pages in front of him. Clearly he was ready to dismiss the matter offhand. Tobirama felt his own teeth grind together just as the Hatake woman’s did. 

“Father,” he spoke up firmly. “Should we not at least look in to this? Maybe send a team to investigate properly with actual sensors, perhaps some of Izuna’s ANBU? Even if it does turn out to be nothing it would be smart to put our people to rest. That’s two teams now who’ve felt this presence and named it troubling; if they spread the news and word gets out that we haven’t responded in any way there are many ways the public can rally against our council.”

To absolutely no one’s surprise Butsuma sighed and wrinkled his nose, scrunching the entirety of his already scrunched and drooping face. “If you absolutely insist but I’m telling you this is a waste of resources.”

If he weren’t so annoyed at his father for being such an idiot Tobirama might not have turned his face away in time to catch the devious expression on Tajima’s face at the other end of the room just before their second resident idiot opened his mouth to prove he was still a contrary ass. 

“Well I happen to think it’s an excellent idea,” he declared. “One can never be too careful.” 

“You can be if it wastes everyone’s time for nothing,” Butsuma snapped. He caught himself a moment later and sat straighter in his chair in an effort to reassert authority. A failed effort. 

“Feel free to explain that to anyone who comes to our council with questions if this really does turn out to be cause for concern.” As though to deliberately contrast his rival again Tajima sank back in to his own chair until he was sprawled out almost as casually as Butsuma had just been only moments before and Tobirama took a moment to openly roll his eyes since no one was looking at him. He felt a steadying hand squeeze his knee under the table and sighed.

Knowing they would continue to glare at each other for the rest of the meeting if interrupted now, he counted backwards in his head until a full two minutes of silence had gone by before clearing his throat. Both of them jumped but he felt no sympathy, barely felt any surprise that they had been too wrapped up in their own idiocy to remember where they were, only steamrolled on passed them by asking the Hatake clan head if she had anything else to add from the report on their southern border. 

Someday it would be Hashirama and Madara sitting up at opposite ends of the table and he honestly could not wait even if that meant trading one pair of disaster idiots for another. Or maybe he could even convince them there wasn’t a need for two people to hold themselves above the rest. By the time their fathers retired or kicked the bucket, whichever came first, maybe he could convince his husband and brother that sitting in amongst the others as they did now, as equals, would help the entire council work as a more cohesive unit. No one liked a self-important blowhard setting themselves above others when they didn’t deserve to. 

“We’re in agreement then? A team will be sent out to investigate the southern border to report on the source of this strange chakra and what actions may need to be taken to protect ourselves against it?” As the Hatake clan head sat down and neither of their fathers were talking Tobirama resigned himself to leading the next discussion until one of their so-called leaders woke up and remembered how much they enjoyed vying for control. 

“Feels like the smartest course of action to me,” Madara answered him when no one else did. 

“Right!” Hashirama piped up at the other end of the table. “Of course it’s smart. Tobi only ever has smart ideas.”

“Not now, Anija,” he scolded absently. He wasn’t the type who needed his ego stroked. 

When he asked the room at large what was next on the agenda Butsuma was the first to snap out of his pathetic funk and start the next discussion, harrumphing and shuffling papers like it might distract them from the fact that he had just been pouting. Not a whole lot happened during the rest of the meeting until the very end when Tajima finally managed to wrest attention back to himself long enough to ask loudly, with nose in the air, for Madara to report on how he had progressed in getting an active police force up and running. 

Since it hadn’t even been two weeks after their return from the capitol Madara had to admit that they didn’t have a lot ready yet. Land had been found and designs for the building they were to use as headquarters were still in the blueprints phase as they tried to consider every different function they would need that space to serve. What they did have was a lot of volunteers from several different clans, although a good chunk of them were from the Uchiha as they all flocked to support their clan heir’s latest endeavor. Madara was quick to point out that his people did have quite a lot of skills that would lend themselves well to serving on a local police force but since no one seemed upset by the over-representation he relaxed just as quickly. 

Tobirama watched his husband speak to the room with pride filling his chest. Everything had been going so well lately. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop but the longer he waited the more he began to think – with almost Hashirama-like optimism – that maybe there really was no other shoe. For once maybe things could just go well without any sort of disaster falling on all their heads and turning everything upside down. That would be nice. Honestly he’d had his fair share of disasters already and the idea of a few months where things could just run along smoothly at the status quo was absolutely heavenly. 

After the council meeting Tobirama very reluctantly bid his husband a short farewell and hurried off back to work. There were several other people he needed to speak with today about various projects and unfortunately none of them could really be foisted off until later when he felt more like working. Lately he never felt like working. All he really wanted to do was curl up at home with his husband, a good book, and a steaming cup of tea. 

Let it never be said, however, that he was not dutiful. Though it was the very opposite of what he wanted Tobirama wandered from place to place in the tower and spoke to the people he needed to, made his notes, and completed the work that certainly no one else was going to step up and complete. With several new sheets of notes to sort out across the various projects he had his fingers in Tobirama returned to his office with the intention of doing so only to find that his officemates were miraculously present for once. Seeing either of them actually sitting behind their desks was such a rare occurrence he actually had to stop in the doorway and double check that he’d come to the right office. He couldn’t remember the last time this had happened. 

Thankfully he managed to pick his jaw off the floor and hustle inside before either of them could notice his hesitation, slipping in to the seat at his desk and pulling out folders to file away the papers he’d brought back with him, doing everything possible to make his movements natural. Inside he felt anything but natural. After so long having the office all to himself it was incredibly strange to have two other bodies there and even though he knew they weren’t he could swear he felt them both watching his every move. Just having their chakra so close made his skin crawl after only fifteen minutes. He couldn’t work like this. There was still so much he needed to do and he would get none of it done if he stayed here. The two men who shared his office were perfectly pleasant people but he was used to them not being around during work hours and having what he had come to view as his own space invaded like this was simply too distracting to function as a productive environment. 

He needed somewhere else to work. 

Gathering all the things he thought he would need for the rest of the day, Tobirama neatly sealed the lot of it in to one of the storage scrolls he kept in the bottom drawer and stuffed that in his pocket. Again he tried not to make eye contact and keep his body language as casual as he could while escaping the room so neither of his officemates would know they had chased him away without doing anything more than sitting there. 

The first place he headed for was a floor above, two more brilliant chakra signatures which drew him in like a warm embrace rather than chasing him away with discomfort. With the door standing open he didn’t even need to knock, although he probably would have heard the two of them carrying on even with it closed. Only partway down the hall he was already smothering a grin, warmth in his chest, hiding away his laughter as he listened to Madara chastise his best friend for – as far as he could make out – eating so loudly the entire building could apparently hear him. The first thing Tobirama saw when he peeked around the corner was Hashirama with a bento box between his hands and tears streaming down his cheeks. Long years of brotherhood steered him more towards fanning the flames than anything resembling sympathy. 

“What is all the ruckus?” he asked, catching both of their attention. “It sounds like boulders crashing together, the whole building is shaking.” 

Hashirama burst in to fresh wails denouncing them both as meanie-heads while Madara stuffed a fist in his mouth to muffle what would doubtless have been a very loud bark of laughter. After he’d gotten himself a little more under control he lowered his hand and offered a grin. “’Lo.” 

“Mn, hello anata.” Tobirama kept his expression mild as he stepped inside, using Hashirama's distraction as an opportunity to drop a kiss on his husband’s cheek. “Having a good afternoon?”

“I was until Champ Chomp over there got in to the snack his wife brought him.”

“Ah. Yes he can get a little too enthusiastic with chewing.” With a pause to glare at his brother, now paying the two of them rapt attention, he was glad he’d gotten in his affections when they were still unobserved. Hashirama had a habit of making a big deal out of every small gesture. 

Just like he was clearly waiting to do now. “Aw, come on, no sweet kiss for your hubby?”

“Please do not ever use that word again,” Madara growled. 

“Seconded.”

“Let’s pretend he’s not here. Did you need something?” His husband looked up at him with the practiced ease of someone who was all too used to ignoring the pathetic sounds of Hashirama whining at them for being mean to him again. 

“I only came to tell you not to wait for me at the end of the day, you can walk home with Izuna if you like. My space has been invaded here so I’m heading out to use the office at the house. Was there anything specific you felt like for dinner? If you have a guess for when you’ll be home I could get things started.”

Madara considered it then shook his head. “Don’t start anything. I’ll pick something up from the market on my way home and we can cook together.” 

“I’d like that.” Tobirama granted him half a smile then waited for Hashirama to sniffle and rub his eyes before darting in for another lightning fast kiss. “That’s all I wanted. Have a good day for what’s left of it, I will see you at home. Anija, do try to let him get at least some work done, yes?” 

He didn’t bother to wave to either of them but nor did he bother to turn and exit back through the door. Leaving by window was much more efficient and came with the added benefit of bypassing anyone in the tower who might catch him and drop more work in his lap. Then too there was the fact that he could feel his father’s chakra loitering near the front entrance to the building that he would have otherwise needed to go through and after such an idiotic meeting earlier he had no desire to speak with the man. Since the window he’d leapt out of was several stories up Tobirama chose the easy route of landing in a nearby tree and swinging down in to a little-used courtyard where it was unlikely anyone had witnessed his quick escape. When he slipped out on to the streets he had already pulled his clothing back in to order, not a single hint left behind that he’d been swinging around through the buildings like a monkey. 

For the most part his plan to spend the rest of the work day at home had been to avoid his coworkers so it should go without saying that Tobirama was not the most social of creatures. There were very few people in the village whose company he would cheerfully accept and even fewer he would happily seek out. His husband, bless the man’s heart, functioned much the same. It was therefore almost a surprise to come home and find the wards already disarmed to denote a guest familiar enough to have dismantled them. 

Surprise only lasted as long as it took him to walk in to the kitchen and discover Susumu up on a stool trying to fit what looked like a large tin inside the cupboard over the fridge. At the sound of him entering she froze for a few moments, the two of them standing perfectly still, staring each other down. Finally she grunted. 

“Well are you going to help me or not?”

“I find myself unwilling to ask why but yes, of course.” 

Allowing himself a bemused smile, Tobirama stepped close enough to take the tin from her and place it neatly in to one of the cupboards Madara also could not reach. Considering her choice of where to put it he figured he could guess what was inside even without asking. She might be soft enough to leave her precious students sweets every so often but she certainly wasn’t nice enough to make them easy for him to find. 

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” she asked after hopping back down from the chair she’d been using as a perch. 

“I came home to work here. My office got invaded.” His brow wrinkled to see her leave the chair where it was without pushing it back in, frowning until she rolled her eyes and put it away properly. 

“Well you came home just in time, I guess. I was gonna set up a bunch of pranks around here but it’s not as much fun if you’re expecting them. Another day, maybe.” 

Tobirama eyed her for a moment but let that go without questions too. Until now the few times she had broken in to their home to leave sweets he wasn’t aware of any pranks left behind. Of course, that could have been because Madara was too embarrassed to tell him about them later or perhaps it had only happened in the months when they weren’t getting along. He wasn’t sure how he felt about whatever madness she might leave behind in their safe space but if it got him a laugh at his husband’s expense…

Looking around to make sure all evidence of her visit had been erased, Susumu waved cheerfully and announced her intentions to leave, pausing after only two steps when Tobirama held up one hand. 

“May I ask your advice on something?” he asked. She raised her eyebrows curiously. 

“You’ve got my attention, sweetcakes.”

“I’m assuming after spending so many years teaching Madara you would have gotten to know Izuna quite well too. If you were planning to give him a gift that you weren’t sure he wanted to accept, how might you go about presenting it to him?”

“Oh?” Her brows lifted even higher. “Is someone trying to buy off his brother-in-law’s affection?”

Tobirama huffed. “Not exactly.”

“Hmm. The most important thing to consider is that he’s a prideful little shit and if you try to give something that suggests he needs something from you he won’t take it well. Do you want a little help brainstorming some good ideas?” 

“Not necessary, I already know what I wish to gift him. I simply don’t know how to give it without turning his nose up.”

Susumu laughed. “Yeah, he does get a little prissy. Okay a lot prissy. The kids a walking bitch face but I love him to pieces, I’m glad to see you’re trying to get along with him too. Even if he doesn’t really deserve it. Alright, well, if you’re sure the gift is a good one then I’d say the best thing to do would be to ambush him in public with someone he respects nearby to discourage him from making a spectacle of himself.” One finger tapped at her chin as her eyes rolled towards the ceiling in thought. “This is probably going to make no sense but it would also help if you could make it all about him without making a big spectacle of him.”

“Focus my own attention only on him without drawing the attention of others?” Tobirama surmised. He knew he’d guessed right when she landed an approval punch on one of his arms. 

“Exactly, you get it. Make sure Madara's there too. It might hurt your pride but if you’re looking to make Izuna happy then there’s nothing he’ll like more than seeing you humble yourself in front of your husband.” 

“Much as I hate to admit it, you’re probably right about that. Thank you, Susumu, your advice has been invaluable. I appreciate it.” He really hoped she knew that his appreciation covered the last time she gave him advice as well because he still hadn’t figured out how to say ‘thanks for the sex talk’ and he wasn’t sure he ever would. 

Whether she knew or not she did look nod graciously in response to his words.

“Need anything else, sugar?”

“I should get to work, actually. Should I tell Madara about the cookies or are you hoping he only finds them after they’ve gone stale?” 

She laughed. “Ehhh wait a day or two and then tell him I left ‘something somewhere’. It’ll drive him nuts. You’re a good kid, Tobirama. A damn good kid. Keep it up, yeah?”

After laying another friendly hit on his arm that would probably bruise heavily she left, blatantly ignoring his grumbles that he had technically been a legal adult for several years now, he was not a ‘kid’. Tobirama eyed the cupboard above their fridge for a few long moments as he considered her suggestions before setting that issue aside to be dealt with when he had more free time to let his thoughts wander. 

He did slip the tin back out to snag a cookie for himself before retreating to the office, though. If Madara wasn’t going to enjoy these fresh then someone should, at least. 


	37. Chapter 37

“I’m bored.”

Tobirama lifted his gaze from the book he’d been lost in for the past – actually he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He found his husband staring back at him with a baleful glare and crossed arms, hunched deeply in to the opposite end of the couch and knees bent to dig his toes in between the cushions they both sat on, thick socks disappearing under the wrappings around his calves. 

“Are you sure you’re not just cold?” 

“Of course I’m cold! Stupid weather taking a stupid dip. If it gets any colder it won’t  _ need _ to snow because the air will just freeze on its own!” 

Rather than point out the ridiculousness of that statement from a scientific viewpoint Tobirama set his book aside with deliberate movements and reached down between them to free his husband’s feet. Ignoring all protests he drew them in to his lap and curled both of his hands around the chilly toes he could feel even through such thick woolen cloth. 

“If you moved around a bit instead of sitting still I’m sure you’d feel warmer,” he suggested. Madara turned his head aside to stick his nose in the air. 

“Yeah, well, you’re over here. So.”

“So?”

“So shut up! Maybe I don’t want to move around!” 

Tobirama smiled and closed his hands a little tighter when he felt the toes in his grasp wriggling a little. Most people probably thought him to have a cooler body temperature, what with his affinity for water, but he’d found over the years that he weathered the cold much better than most perhaps because of that. Sharing a bit of his body heat wasn’t a massive hardship really. And if it gave Madara a reason to stay here at his side that was all the better. 

Not, apparently, that the man needed any more excuses. He seemed prepared to hang around even without thinking of any sort of good reason to and Tobirama was pretty okay with that.

“Would you perhaps like to do something together?” He was polite enough not to laugh when Madara perked up, tensing in that way that said he’d been offered exactly what he wanted but wasn’t ready to admit he wanted it in the first place. 

“It would have to be something fun. And something that would actually keep us warm, not just strolling around the marketplace. Or drinking. Hashirama's suggestion is always drinking.”

“Yes and have I recently expressed my gratitude that you deny him?” Tobirama shuddered. One drunken escapade per year was plenty for him. He was the last person who would ever think to tell someone else what they were allowed to do with their body and their time but the thought of Madara crawling in to their bed smelling of a brewery the way he knew he must have the night he did the same, it was not a pleasant one. He found himself awash with gratitude all over again that Madara had taken care of him so well the next day. 

Grumbling indistinctly under his breath, Madara took his feet back so he could sit up properly and gaze out the window. “I don’t really want to go outside,” he said, “but I would if we could spar. That’d certainly keep us moving around enough to stay warm – and we can always dress in layers.”

“If we have a proper spar with chakra you’ll be warm from the first jutsu. Or have you forgotten your own element?”

For a moment Tobirama smirked thinking the dumbfounded expression on the other’s face was a reaction to his comment. It took another look for him to see the slowly building light in the dark eyes he loved so much. That was a look he knew well, though it didn’t always spell good news for everyone around them and sometimes it meant he needed to duck and cover right quick. 

“We’re married,” Madara blurted and Tobirama paused. 

“Yes,” he agreed slowly. “We are.”

“So you’re an Uchiha now.”

“Mn, that’s what you tell me.” The Uchiwa fan he carried between his shoulders never felt so light as the moments when he was reminded of the easy acceptance between them now. 

Leaning over to bump their shoulders together, Madara gave him a warning look before going on. “Come on, I’ve just decided how we’re going to stay warm without getting bored.”

“Oh you’ve decided, have you?”

“I have.”

“Well thank you, your highness, for making that executive decision on my behalf.” 

Tobirama was already laughing before Madara glared at him and he figured he deserved the hands that bunched in his sleeves and pulled roughly on them, dragging him to his feet. 

“You offered!” Madara insisted and he decided to let his husband win this one. 

Since apparently he had annoyed his way out of getting to know where they were going he opted to follow Madara's lead and not add any extra layers than a jacket to ward off the chill as they marched out the door. He thought he had a pretty good idea considering which direction they were headed but Hashirama had been after him lately with the ‘innocent until proven guilty’ concept so he decided to wait before making any accusations. 

Ten minutes later he smirked to know that his guess was right as they arrived at one of the exclusive Uchiha training grounds, the same one where he so often trained with Kagami. Since Madara usually preferred to use the training grounds outside the village where he and Hashirama could cause as much destruction as they wanted without terrifying the civilians Tobirama thought maybe he would have the advantage here, familiar as he was with the terrain and its uses. Between them only he would know about the softer dirt in the eastern quarter of the field and the badger holes dug in to the north sitting empty and ready to trip up unsuspecting people.

“Right, so, I know you think we’re going to spar,” Madara began and Tobirama blinked at him. Not such a good guess after all. “I’ve got something, uh, different in mind. You can use fire release.”

“I can use all five elemental releases,” Tobirama interrupted him.

“Yes we all know that, you big show off, that wasn’t my point. I was thinking…”

Tobirama valiantly held off on making some kind of distasteful joke. Clearly there was something going on in the other man’s head that he wouldn’t be able to guess at but what he could tell for sure was that it seemed oddly important and so he held his silence, waiting patiently. 

“I want to teach you the Grand Fireball Jutsu.”

“What?” His jaw didn’t quite drop but it was a close call. “Isn’t that a protected clan jutsu?”

“Yes and you are a part of this clan so it’s only right that you know it.” Madara continued on despite the deep red color rising in his cheeks, ignoring the matching heat spreading over Tobirama’s entire face. “As an Uchiha you have a right to all of our clan secrets and that includes knowing our signature jutsu. Honestly I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to get around to teaching you. If you…want to learn?”

“I would be honored,” Tobirama told him with complete sincerity.

Those were the only words he had in him but they were enough. Nothing could possibly have expressed how touched he was by this gesture. With the amount of times Izuna had thrown the matter in his face or the even more bountiful number of times Madara had assured him on it Tobirama had never felt so much like he belonged, so accepted. He met his husband’s warm gaze and he thought to himself, not for the first time, that this was truly where he was meant to be. 

After ages spent doing nothing but staring deeply in to each other’s eyes Madara bit his lip and turned away, freeing Tobirama from having to make a bad attempt at expressing what he was feeling. His husband understood. They both knew each other very well by now. Tobirama just hoped that Madara understood all the nuances of how he felt, more than just the vague knowledge that he was grateful but also that he had never been more in love. Nothing Madara could have done would ever have shown him quite so perfectly that he was accepted here, was truly a member of the family, the clan, the people that he had chosen as his own as surely as he had been thrust upon them unwittingly. From the moment he first realized his own burgeoning feelings there had lingered some unshakable doubts and here at last was his clarity. 

He may have been born an heir of the Senju but on the day he married he became an Uchiha. There were no regrets.

Learning a new jutsu was so much less difficult for him than it was for his student but there was still a learning curve with teaching his chakra to mold in to brand new shapes. As they ran through the string of hang signs over and over to get his hands used to the pattern Madara told him that learning this way was tradition for all children, use of the Sharingan expressly forbidden. For any child with the nature to mold fire chakra performing the Grand Fireball Jutsu for the first time was considered their first steps towards adulthood. He refrained again from making any bad jokes about the legitimacy of his own manhood now.

Since he was an adult with years more experience and a dozen more jutsu in his arsenal than the average child Tobirama was able to create at least a mildly impressive Grand Fireball by the time the sun began its descent in the sky. He would need quite a lot more practice before he could make one anywhere close to Madara's and honestly doubted he would ever be able to achieve quite that size. Madara had the advantage of fire being his first nature whereas Tobirama’s was water, fire a hard earned skill that would never come quite as easily. 

“Would it be cheesy to tell you that you look dashing with firelight on your skin?” Madara asked as the burn of that first massive Grand Fireball faded from the air, the final product after hours of hard work. He gave an unrepentant grin when Tobirama rolled his eyes in response. 

“Yes. It would.” 

“Right, then I won’t say it.” 

“I’m not sure if I love you more for your terrible sense of humor or if I’m going to make removing it my next science experiment.” Tobirama tapped at his chin with exaggerated thought. 

His partner wasn’t fooled in the slightest. To his absolute mortification Madara sidled up close and tugged on the front of his shirt, asking him to bend down for a kiss, even seeming to enjoy it when the tips of his ears flushed a light pink and his eyes darted from side to side like he expected a horde of gasping onlookers to appear from the tree line. 

“Out here?” He asked dubiously. Madara tugged a little more insistently.

“Kiss me, damn it. I just showed you a very lovely gesture and now you’re being mean to me.” 

He did sort of have a point there so Tobirama bent and allowed Madara to drag him in to a kiss fiery enough that he began to worry all over again about how public these grounds were – in the back of his mind, of course, since most of his attention was immediately distracted by the feel of those gorgeous lips against his own.

Naturally the moment he stopped paying lots of attention to the world around them that was when the world decided to intrude itself upon their solitude in the form of two familiar faces. One of them was more than welcome, or would be as soon as she quit making wolf whistles across the field; Susumu hadn’t a drop of shame in her entire body. The other face Tobirama could have lived without. Likely his husband would be happy to see Izuna there, the two most precious and beloved members of his family together, but Tobirama could only think that having his brother-in-law appear had ruined the calm and happy atmosphere they’d been enjoying all afternoon. He was smart enough to keep that to himself as well though. 

“Getting in a little  _ exercise _ , are we?” Susumu waggled her eyebrows until Madara shoved her, Izuna turning his head to mime gagging. “What are the two of you scrumptious little bits getting up to then, eh?” Her curiosity only increased when they shared a look. Madara waved him on so Tobirama cleared his throat to bring all eyes to himself. 

“We were practicing the Grand Fireball Jutsu,” he revealed softly. 

“No shit? Well it’s about time!” 

At her side, Izuna clearly did not share that opinion. His face pinched immediately but, to his credit, he managed to keep his mouth shut, a massive step up from all the months of deliberate antagonism. Tobirama almost thought he deserved a reward for such good behavior but bringing attention to it in any way was likely to toss them right back to where they started. 

“So how did it go then?” Susumu demanded, as timely with her distractions as ever. Tobirama smiled for her.

“Quite well,” he said. “I’m not quite able to imitate what Madara can do but I imagine that few can.” 

“What he means to say is that he made incredible progress in one day and we should all be very impressed.” Madara interrupted, jabbing him with one elbow.

“I know I am. Good for you, muffin, good for you!” 

Tobirama hummed noncommittally, not sure what to do with so much praise. It was different when it was Hashirama. His brother was naturally dramatic at all times and he’d stopped taking the man seriously a long time ago but with others he never quite knew what to say. Much easier was attempting to push the focus off of himself by asking what such an unlikely pair as Susumu and Izuna were doing out here in the middle of the day.

“What else would we be doing out here on a training field?” Izuna grumbled, low enough Tobirama didn’t think anyone else heard him. 

“Oh, you know me. I get bored. This one was moping around the tower so I told him to put all that boring shit down for the day and pulled him out to work off a bit of steam with me. With you two here maybe we could make things a little more interesting?” 

A terrible swooping feeling nearly ripped Tobirama’s stomach right out through his throat but the gods had mercy on him in the form of Madara shaking his head and declaring them already tired enough after their own training. If the four of them were to pair off for a spar he knew exactly who he would be matched against and fighting Izuna in any way was precisely the opposite of what he wanted. That was just one more thing that would have taken them right back to the start. 

Listening while the three of them started gossiping and trading juicy tidbits about things happening around the Uchiha compound, small clan dramas he had no interest in, Tobirama eventually zoned out of what they were saying to focus on observing instead. He loved seeing Madara like this, so relaxed and happy as he chatted without thinking about his reputation or trying to impress anyone. And he was growing fonder and fonder of Susumu every time they met. Either of them could have easily drawn his eye and yet it was to Izuna that he looked, Izuna whose body language both yearned for his brother and held back at the same time, who leaned in to everything his most precious person said but kept his arms folded like an unconscious barrier between them. 

Someone, it seemed, had been doing a lot of thinking. Not once since arriving had he made any snarky comments besides pretending to gag, though that could easily be attributed to brotherly teasing, and in fact he had mostly avoided even looking in Tobirama’s direction almost as though he wished to avoid the temptation to start a fight. The idea of rewarding good behavior suddenly didn’t seem like such a terrible idea after all. 

Even better, Tobirama knew just how to do that without making it seem like he was trying to make fun of his brother-in-law. All he needed was the right moment and he didn’t even have to wait too long for that. The stars weren’t even out yet but they were all aligning just for him. Just as Madara began excusing them to go back home and let the other two have the field he laid a hand on his husband’s arm and tilted his head down in apology for the interruption. Then he looked to his brother-in-law. 

“I’m glad we ran in to each other,” he murmured to the man’s obvious surprise. “I have something that I wished to give you.” 

“Well that’s suspicious.” Izuna jerked when Susumu reached up to punch him in the arm, twisting his mouth in to a wry expression while he rubbed the sore spot but not taking his words back. 

“Unexpected, I’m sure. He is not wrong to say so, Susumu-san, there’s no need for violence.” 

“He could try being a little more polite,” she snapped back. 

Tobirama very carefully did not smile or laugh. “He may react in whichever way he feels. And to that note, he is not in any way obligated to accept my offer; I would appreciate it if you do not disparage him no matter how he chooses.” 

If the group of them hadn’t been looking at him strangely before then they were now. Madara eyed him from the side with a dubious expression while Susumu gave him a look that blatantly questioned whether he might have contracted some sort of fever. He understood their concerns, though, so it was easy enough to ignore them and concentrate on Izuna who had subtly dropped his weight to the balls of his feet, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice in case this was all a trick. 

“Go on then,” he demanded. “What do you want?” He watched intently as Tobirama brought one of his hands to the opposite arm and pressed his thumb in to the seal inked there along his wrist, a seal that their other two companions had only seen him use once.

“This is not a gift for any specific occasion or with any obligation. It is also not a gift given lightly.” With a brief flash the Raijin no Ken appeared between his hands from where he kept it stored in the seal on his arm. “This sword has been a Senju heirloom since their clan head won it from ours so many generations back that many have forgotten where it originated from. As our clan’s most skilled warrior with a lightning nature I wish for you to be the new bearer of Raijin no Ken, that it be returned to the place it truly belongs.” 

It was hard to decide which part of that had shocked everyone the most. That he was willing to give up his most powerful weapon maybe. Perhaps that he would give it to Izuna specifically. Or maybe, for Izuna, it was that he referred to the Uchiha as ‘our’ clan, including himself in their number so naturally as though he belonged here as much as the sword and all of them, passed through generations of Senju only to come home to the Uchiha where he was meant to be. 

Silence reigned while Izuna visibly struggled with how to react. Both Madara and Susumu were good enough to keep their mouths shut despite how they were obviously bursting at the seams with their own opinions and for that Tobirama was grateful. He coached himself to patience as well, carefully observing the way Izuna’s weight rocked back and forth like he wanted to reach for what had been offered but held himself back for reasons known only to him. The fingers of his left hand twitched. His brows furrowed and relaxed so many times they seemed to dance across the top of his face until finally he looked away and for a moment Tobirama felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. Disappointment rippled through him. 

Then Izuna took a deep breath in, let it out slowly, and turned to meet his eyes with a determined set to his jaw. 

“You’re not going to regret it in a month and ask for it back?” 

“No. The blade is yours if you will take it from me.” A significant caveat and they both understood that. The meaning of the gift would be changed entirely if anyone else were to offer it; Izuna had to accept that the blade came from Tobirama’s hands if he accepted it at all. 

“And you’re not trying to bribe anything out of me either.” 

Tobirama didn’t bother gracing that with a response. It sounded more like a statement than a question but even if it was a true worry it wasn’t worth soothing. He had nothing to gain with bribery and would never lower himself to such tactics when it came to making peace with his husband’s family. Another moment of silence passed before finally Izuna reached out with both palms turned up to receive the sword. 

“I accept your gift and will treat it with the honor it deserves,” he intoned, snapping a quick glare over at his brother when Madara blew out an explosive breath of relief. 

“May it serve you well.” Tobirama let his fingers tighten around the handle of a blade he had cared for and loved since he was first allowed to bear it as his own. Then he gently cradled the weapon across Izuna’s palms and released it in to the care of another who, though he loathed to admit it, could make use of such a legendary weapon much better than him. Seeing the Raijin no Ken once again in the hands of one who had truly mastered lightning would be a wonder, if nothing else. 

As he handed it over Tobirama wondered, for a moment, just how angry the Senju elders would be when they found out he had given one of their most prized heirlooms away. Then he serenely dismissed the thought. He was a member of the Uchiha clan himself now so he could hardly be faulted for passing the blade along his own line. 

Reverently and with awe poorly hidden in his eyes Izuna clasped the handle of his new weapon and raised it up, infusing just enough chakra for the blade to burst in to life the way it was meant to, a strike of lightning contained in human hands. The light of it against his skin made him look sallow but the excitement on his face almost made Izuna handsome. Almost. Tobirama bit his lip and peeked sideways. He would always prefer the older brother in every way. 

“What do you say?” Susumu asked, her elbow uncharacteristically gentle when she nudged it in to her companion’s side. 

“Thank you,” Izuna breathed. “It’s…a good gift.” 

“A worthy gift,” Tobirama corrected him. 

Their eyes met once more and he saw the battle in the other man’s gaze but it was a softer look than he’d ever seen directed at him and the battle was, at long last, over in only a few heartbeats of silence. He watched Izuna capitulate right before him and, strangely, felt none of the triumph he might have expected. They might never come to enjoy each other’s company but they would both be a part of Madara's life for the rest of their own and it seemed as though the gravity of that was finally getting through Izuna’s thick head. As Susumu had advised one brother in the earlier stages of this marriage, so too had the younger brother finally come to realize: they may not have chosen the connection between them but there was little point in making themselves extra miserable by fighting it so strongly. 

“Want to try it out properly?” Madara asked with eagerness in his gaze. Izuna returned that look all too easily and the two of them darted a good enough distance away that there was space for Madara to take up the blade Izuna had brought with him so his brother could test out this new one.

“That was very well done,” Susumu murmured once they were out of earshot. When Tobirama looked down she was looking back up at him with knowing approval. 

“I received some very helpful advice on the timing of it,” he acknowledged. 

She smiled and patted him on the arm, gently for once. “Whether I’ve said it before or not this feels like a good day to say it again. Welcome to the family, kiddo. You’re doing great.”

“Am I?” 

“The way you two started was foreign to me - to all of us - but even an old crust like myself is allowed to have a change of heart sometimes. After watching your relationship grow I can’t imagine anyone else by his side. You’re good for him; and I think he’s good for you too.” 

Both of them turned their gazes away to watch their loved ones making a spectacle of themselves, hooting and hollering with joy as lightning sparked around them unheeding, and though Tobirama said nothing in return he knew that he didn’t have to. Instead of words he very slowly lifted one hand to rest it on Susumu’s shoulder, holding tension in his own until several seconds had passed with no reaction from her. She really had gotten to know him well, enough to know exactly what such a gesture would mean from him and, thankfully, how embarrassing he would find it for her to point it out. 

“Should we rein them in before they destroy this whole field?” He asked eventually, eyeing the long scores of burnt grass adding themselves to the damage he’d already done himself during training. 

“Oh let them play for a bit,” his companion tutted. “They’re having fun.”

“Their fun runs the risk of burning down the whole village if it spreads too far.” 

“Killjoy.” 

Tobirama looked down at her again with a mild expression. “My apologies for protecting the people of this village from two idiots with no restraint.”

He was glad to hear her laugh but even more glad when she moved forward to put an end to the play they were watching. Partly because he was worried about them getting a little too out of control as he’d said but also partly because he wanted to take his husband home and enjoy the rest of their day together. After such a peaceful start he hadn’t expected the last few hours to be riddled with so many emotions and he was ready for evening to bring back the calm. 

Seeing Madara so filled with joyful energy was oddly reminiscent of the way he looked after a good spar with Hashirama, the ones where they didn’t run themselves in to exhaustion, and Tobirama decided he was glad to see the man so happy. Positive interactions between him and his brother had been few and far between over the past year.

“I guess they want to spar now,” his husband said as he came back across the field. “Ready to go home?” 

“Mm, very. I believe a nice bath is in order and then perhaps something to eat. After all that exercise I am famished.” Tobirama put a hand to his belly, feeling more than hearing the empty gurgle it made. 

“That sounds good, actually.” 

It really did. Tobirama was in such a good mood he didn’t even spare a single thought when Madara wove their hands together for the walk home. Why should he? He was proud to have this man as his husband and if he wanted to show that pride off a little bit then he should be able to, especially when most of the people who would see them were members of their own clan. 

A clan that Tobirama was proud to call his own.


	38. Chapter 38

Watching Madara address the council was an exercise in patience. Not because he didn’t believe in what his husband was saying or even because he found listening to be difficult but rather because the confidence practically dripping from him was very attractive and Tobirama wanted nothing more than for this blasted meeting to end. He had a husband to violate in whichever empty room presented itself for his convenience first. 

The Police Force Initiative truly was the right place for him here, a job where his passion for the people under his care shone through in such a way that no one could deny he believed in this village. Never had Tobirama loved his husband more than as he sat and watched him advocate for a larger budget just so he could serve better, protect better, provide for the men and women who would be under his command so he could give them the tools they needed to serve the citizens under their protection. It was like watching him slot in to place and flourish right before their eyes. Tobirama was captivated. 

And happy. It may have taken a year or so but everything was finally coming around to how it should be - for all of them. Even Izuna looked more relaxed than ever where he sat farther down the table. Tobirama himself had been the one to suggest that he attend council meetings as the head of ANBU and therefore the crux of all information flowing in to the village. He’d let his brother-in-law think it was Tajima’s idea, though, happy to rely on the man’s ego and propensity for claiming every good idea was his own. At least in this instance it served to protect someone else’s ego for once. 

“A pretty speech,” one of the minor clan Heads spoke out as Madara wound down. “But do you have the documentation to justify this proposed budget?”

“I do. If you would but open the dossier I handed out you would see that.” Unwilling to bend, Madara stared the other man down until he had no choice but to give in and open the packet that had indeed been given as soon as the subject was broached. Right there on the first page was a table of contents. And prominently listed in that table would be evidence to back up why Madara needed the money and where he would be getting it from. 

Tobirama didn’t bother to smother the look of pride he could feel on his own face, undamped by the pressure headache that had been slowly mounting in his temples over the past hour. He hadn’t needed to offer many changes after Madara asked him to look the packet over. The work was good and it was all to his husband’s credit. 

“Now, if the council would be good enough to indulge me a little farther, I’ve already spoken with the head of village security and Touka-san has agreed to a joint training program which I’d like to detail for you now.” 

“What’s the point in training you both together?” A light scoff came from the Hyuga heir. “Wouldn’t that be more expensive?”

“Cheaper, actually, since we wouldn’t need to provide two dedicated training facilities.” Madara lifted his eyebrow but it was not a defensive expression, merely a judgmental once. 

The young Hyuga folded his arms. “We already have many training grounds.”

“If my officers and the security teams work together we will have a better understanding of each other’s patrol routes, better response times, tighter protocol for who has jurisdiction over what, and also go fuck yourself.” Several people in the room covered their mouths, whether to gasp or snicker, but Madara only blew a bit of fringe away from his face. Clearly he was nearing the end of his already short fuse. 

Butsuma stood up with the clear intention of bringing him to order but he was interrupted before a single word had time to pass his lips as the door burst open to admit three men, two of them panting and wild-eyed. 

“An emergency!” the more put together man cried. “Danger!” 

“What is the meaning of this?” Butsuma demanded. 

“It’s coming! It’s coming our way! Straight for us!” One of the clearly exhausted men gave a shudder. “We’re all doomed…” And with that his eyes rolled back in his head, crumpling to the floor in a dead faint. 

His companion did not waste time checking on him.

“We’re from the team that was sent to investigate the massive chakra presence. I-I know you won’t believe me. But I swear! It’s a tailed beast! A massive fox with nine tails and teeth as long as I am tall and it’s coming for us! It’s coming this way!” 

“Someone tell me what the hell this idiot is blathering on about,” Tajima grumbled.

On his feet still, Madara's quiet voice was just loud enough to reach the whole room. “I thought the tailed beasts were just legends. They can’t be real.” 

“They’re real,” the soldier moaned. “This one is. It’s massive! And it- oh god. Tetsuo…it ate Tetsuo…” 

At last the stress of what he had seen appeared to catch up with him as well. He didn’t faint like his companion but he did waver, catching himself against the wall and sliding down until he could bury his face against his knees like a terrified child. Though Tobirama hated to leave anyone in such a state he understood that this was obviously a crisis on their hands. Psychological breaks could be dealt with later. Right now they needed to think about saving lives. 

Unfortunately organizing themselves did not seem to be the first thing on either of their supposed leaders’ minds as it should have been. Butsuma and Tajima were both out of their seats but their eyes were locked in the sort of staring contest that generally prompted the rest of the council to simply sit back and wait out the proverbial dick measuring contest. 

“It will take time to gather our forces,” Tajima murmured as if to himself. 

“Such a beast cannot be allowed to simply enter the village unheeded,” Butsuma answered, finally something they agreed upon. “Time must be bought.” It was just too bad that what they agreed on was something utterly stupid. 

“Consider it done. I myself will go; I will hold the beast at bay until our people can answer the call to arms.”

“You will not go alone.” 

They stared each other down until Tobirama felt his temper snap. “This is not the time to worry about pride!”

“My son is correct. Now is the time for action. If you still have fight in you, Uchiha, then let me show you how hot my own fire burns. We take the beast on together.” Butsuma tilted his head in challenge, one his counterpart was only too ready to accept. 

“Perhaps not the words I would have chosen,” Tajima said. “I go to protect my village. If you should happen to come along that is your choice.” 

They moved towards the window at the same time with all the intention of men who would not be swayed from their paths and even Tobirama himself was startled to hear his own voice call out for Butsuma to wait. More surprised still when the man actually paused to look back at him. He wasn’t even truly sure why he’d done it. Knowing the danger descending upon them all, for the first time since he was a child Tobirama looked at the man across the room and saw his  _ father _ . Not a good one, no, but the man who sired him all the same. 

“Be safe,” was all he said.

He should have expected no less than the puzzled frown that was his only answer before Butsuma turned to leap after Tajima, unwilling to take even a moment for his own son in the face of allowing his rival to upstage him in any way. So much wasted breath. In their wake the room was silent but there was no time for that, someone needed to get these people moving. 

“Alright,” Tobirama snapped, taking up the responsibility of leadership only because no one else had yet. “While they slow the beast we need to gather our forces. Izuna, you have your own people to organize and you know their skills best. Move fast, hit hard, and the rest of us will do what we can to keep the attention off of you. Shimura-sama, wake my cousin. Touka’s patrol teams can make a perimeter around the village as a last defense.” Both of them nodded and darted off. 

“Won’t we need them on the field?” Hashirama asked. “We should throw everything we have at it!” Tobirama shook his head.

“Even if the fight doesn’t reach the village the debris or backlash of it might. This is supposed to be some legendary massive beast and the civilians cannot be left unprotected.”

“Right! You’re so smart, little brother!” His smile was sharper than usual, the adrenaline of an upcoming battle hardening his normally soft edges. A look he hadn’t worn since peace was made. 

Tobirama let that pass; there were other things to concentrate on. “The InoShikaCho clans have extensive experience working together. All available bodies from those clans not enrolled in the ANBU or the patrol teams should be allowed to work as a unit. Do not concentrate on bringing the beast down. Try to slow him, stop his movement, control the field. Madara, you and Hashirama are our two strongest fighters and the Uchiha can move faster than most. I don’t mean to put our people in the line of danger–”

“We’re as ready to fight for our homes as anyone else.” His husband tossed a bit of fringe away from his face. “Attack, not defense?” 

“The Uchiha have always been particularly good at burning whatever lies in their path,” Tobirama agreed with the shadow of a bloody smile. He was pleased to receive one in return.

“And the rest of us?” The Hatake clan heir looked ready to sink her teeth in to something already. 

Tobirama opened his senses and winced at the sensation of the mass of brilliance bearing down on him. It was a miracle his latent sensing hadn’t felt it as more than a mounting headache, though he supposed that by now he’d grown used to living in the center of so many different signatures all piled on top of each other that a gradual increase simply hadn’t been all that noticeable. 

“Support,” he said, a snap decision, wondering at how easily this room of leaders had decided to allow him to take control. “Fill in the spaces when you can. Remove any of the fallen if needed, escort the wounded to medical attention, and allocate a small team to prepare extra weaponry for standby. Hyuga-sama, instruct your people that defending their comrades is more important than attacking the beast. We will not win this battle if there are none left to fight it.” 

In the distance something rumbled and Tobirama shuddered at the massive wave of chakra that rolled over them. The beast was angry. 

“We are running out of time. Prepare for battle.” 

The room scattered as each of them rushed towards their weapons and armor. Fighting in their casual daily outfits could only accomplish so much no matter that each of them surely kept some kind of blade on them at all times. Butsuma and Tajima had promised to buy them time; they would be fools not to use it. 

Without a word Tobirama snagged his husband’s arm and reached for one of the markers he had set up around their home. Almost before they had finished shifting through space he was moving, reaching for the stand where his armor sat waiting after its latest repairs. He got one hand on it and then scowled as he was forcibly turned around, irritated to be stopped, ready to tell the other man off for interrupting him. Annoyance melted away as he was pulled down in to a fierce kiss. 

“You will be careful,” Madara snarled in his face. “I will not sit by your bedside and pray for your life again. Don’t you dare do that to me.” 

“I expect you to do the same,” he said quietly.

“Obviously. If that dumb monster so much as thinks of hurting even a hair on your head I will rip its bloody heart out. Twice you’ve been hospitalized in one year! I refuse to see it happen again!” Still grumbling under his breath, he released his iron grip and stomped over to pull his own armor off its stand. 

Tobirama watched him with a full heart. “At least you did not need to sit with me through the second time.”

“Yes, because leaving you in Izuna’s care will always turns out well!” 

After that they garbed themselves for war in silence. Strapping himself in to his armor felt to Tobirama almost the same as strapping another persona on to his skin. Here in their home it was sometimes hard to believe the soft and openly loving husband he had become but those feelings had no place in battle. Though it caused him something akin to physical pain he boxed those parts of himself away and firmly closed the lid on them, tucked away to leave his concentration free for observation and strategy, the sort of clear thinking that would keep him alive to come home where he could open that box again. 

If there was one silver lining to this situation it would be the chance to see Madara in all his glory once again, a veritable god of war in blood red armor and that distinctive gunbai strapped to his back.

“Let’s go,” he murmured. They had no more time to waste on soft words or meaningless compliments. As they dashed out in to the frigid temperatures outside and took to the rooftops Tobirama promised himself that later he would spend hours describing for his husband just how incredible he looked with that fierce expression – then he very carefully shoved that in to the box as well and locked it shut. 

Just past the edge of where the village wall was still being upgraded they crossed paths with Izuna, directing his ANBU with last minute instructions. 

“You know what we really need?” he called as they passed him by, breath misting in the air. “A fucking alarm. A village-wide alarm system so we don’t have to go running around like chickens gathering everyone up if this shit happens again.”

“That…is a good idea,” Tobirama admitted. 

Izuna stared at him. 

“Why don’t you give that some more thought and if we both survive we can hash out some ideas later.” When he turned he managed to catch just the edge of a thoughtful look on the man’s face as they continued on their way and leaped out of sight. 

Figuring out what direction to go wasn’t hard. Even without the sounds of destruction and the clouds of dust and smoke rising slowly from the forest there was the oppressive weight of that chakra signature, close enough now that even the most insensitive shinobi would be able to feel it there, hovering at the edge of their mind like a wild animal dragging sharp teeth along their consciousness. It was not a pleasant feeling. 

Tobirama and Madara kept speed with each other as they darted through the trees, matching step for step and weaving through the branches in perfect unison. Battle had called them and they had answered. All of Tobirama’s instincts cried out for him to strategize and make plans but he recognized that it was useless until he was able to see the situation for himself. He’d never fought a tailed beast before let alone the Kyuubi itself, the strongest of the nine. Trying to plan for something like that was like trying to plan for the path of a tornado; there was simply no predicting what would happen until it did. 

Much easier was determining that they were getting close. As soon as they began to encounter long swaths of forest crushed or burnt they increased their speed. Tobirama pushed through the discomfort of that massive signature to find the cool green feeling of his brother and directed them that way. Shinobi of their power served best at the front no matter the danger they faced. 

Seeing the beast for the first time nearly stopped them both in their tracks, however. It didn’t matter how brave a man was, seeing a creature several stories taller than the administration tower would have been a sight all on its own. The oppressive weight of the thing’s hatred was something else entirely. 

“We have to fight that,” Madara breathed, his voice only just audible over the commotion around them. 

“No,” Tobirama said. “We have to stop it. Let’s go.” 

Several bodies lay still in scattered places throughout the carnage, others darting in to carry them away, but Tobirama’s eyes found several directly beneath the feet of the Kyuubi where they could not be safely retrieved. He dismissed them. Later he would mourn the loss of life. Right now he would do what he could to protect the living. 

Hashirama fell back to meet them as they approached and Tobirama felt his heart clench at the sight of tears streaming down the man’s face. 

“Are you injured?” he demanded. Hashirama shook his head. 

“Later,” he choked out. “We have to put this thing down before it takes more.” 

“Right. Then let’s do that.”

One quick survey told him that the people of the village were indeed following the strategy he had quickly laid out. To one side Nara cast their shadows to snare legs and tails, Yamanaka threw their own consciousness’ out in an attempt to take over the beast’s, and the Akimichi stood over them both with their bodies expanded to massive sizes, deflecting the lashing tails and protecting their friends.

Hatake and Inuzuka harried the flanks while several Aburame attempted to guide their insects in to any orifice they could use for an inside take down. Uchiha sent flames from the front in brilliant displays while Senju used the earth and the river to push and pull, attacking, attempting to knock the thing off balance. The Hyuga clan were spread through the rest of them, each paired up with another shinobi and moving in tandem as though this battle were a well-practiced dance. Directing attacks to the targets with the most deadly potential, rotating or using their Byakugan to deflect incoming debris, they made the perfect support for anyone lucky enough to work with them. 

Just watching their village come together in such a way was enough to make a man burst with pride and yet for all their efforts they made very little progress. Bodies fell and others dashed in to remove them. Screams and thunder rent the air in a near constant litany of destruction. 

“I’ll take its head,” Hashirama declared, legs coiling in readiness. 

“The back,” Madara claimed. “Watch me tame that fucker.”

“Hold,” Tobirama snapped. 

Amazingly enough, they did as he asked, holding until suddenly waves of ANBU burst from the trees in a concentrated attack. Then Tobirama ducked his head to bare his teeth.

“Now, while it’s distracted!” 

Hashirama burst forward with his hands already forming signs. Spires of mokuton burst from the ground at his command to reach for the beast’s face and muzzle its jaw. Deep in its throat the Kyuubi snarled – then he screamed with rage and pain as Madara hit him from behind with the largest Grand Fireball the field had seen yet that day. 

Letting the two of them work ahead as a distraction, Tobirama scattered kunai marked with his special seal. As soon as he had the layout of the terrain solid in his mind he reached for one and appeared directly under the belly of the rampaging animal. With so much water already scattered about it was the work of a moment to gather a large puddle and swing his arms upwards to slice at the soft flesh above his head, an attack that he hoped was doubly painful with the temperature of the water only barely above freezing. He was gone before the answering scream was finished and gathering more water to go for the hamstrings.

Before he could get close enough a great roar shook the earth and destabilized his footing as the Kyuubi broke through its wooden muzzle, snapping at the branches that reached to capture it again. Tobirama flashed to his brother’s side and pulled him out of the way just in time for one of the many tails to come crashing down where he’d just been standing. 

“Thanks for the save,” Hashirama cried. “Let’s try  _ this _ on for size!” 

Only once had Tobirama even seen him use that massive scroll he carried in to battle but it was a testament to how seriously his brother was taking this fight when he threw it down and unrolled it, slamming his palm in to the center. When his summon appeared it carried them both up on its shoulders to tower over the forest and draw their opponent’s attention all to themselves. The Kyuubi didn’t look terribly impressed to see the Several Thousand Hands but Madara clearly was – and just as clearly did not intend to be left behind. 

“You think that’s something? I am the one you should be worried about, fox!” His voice came from the ground a moment before he was raised up above it in the headpiece of a fully formed Susano’o. 

“Together, my friend?” Hashirama called to him.

“Eat my chakra dust!” Madara hollered back. 

Despite his words they moved in sync as only the best of battle partners could. Tobirama spared a moment to roll his eyes at their antics even as he cast one of his kunai and followed it through the air, summoning the river to his purpose. 

With their strength combined and aid from all the other clans the amount of injuries dropped significantly, though the battle was still a hard one. The tide was turned with the arrival of Mito, her usual orderly outfit replaced with the minimalistic battle gear of a true Uzushio warrior. With delicate grace she evaded the reached claws attempting to crush her spine and wove between the hundreds of wooden fists slicing through the air to land at her husband’s side. Tobirama appeared at his other a moment later. 

“I can seal him,” she announced confidently. “But nothing inanimate will be able to hold that much energy. If I seal him it will be in to a living creature. A person.” 

“Any volunteers?” Tobirama asked dryly. 

“That sounds incredibly dangerous.” Deftly weaving his signs still, Hashirama kept the beast distracted with his summons while they spoke. “Would his chakra not tear the person to shreds?” 

Mito shook her head. “No. This is why I did not come until now; I have been modifying the seal we use to make storage scrolls and I believe that it should contain him so long as there is another chakra to give the array power. Their life will be the safeguard that holds him.” 

“I will do it,” Hashirama declared. He looked determined until she laid her hand on his arm.

“No, it cannot be you. The head of one clan with so much power would unbalance the rest. I believe it should be me. It would be dangerous for whoever takes this responsibility to leave the village and I hardly do so already.” 

“Make a decision,” Tobirama snapped. “We don’t have time to sit around and chat it over all day. Yes or no, Anija!” 

“May the kami forgive me. Yes. Do it – and fast.” 

She gave one sharp nod and then Mito turned towards the Kyuubi with fire in her eyes the likes of which few had seen and lived to speak of. With barely a thought Tobirama was away at his own husband’s side, suspended within the Susano’o. 

“On my mark be loud. As much of a distraction as you can be. Draw its attention and hold it.” 

“Understood.” 

Tobirama trained his eyes across the shifting mass of fur between him and his brother, watching until Mito’s tiny form shot forward.

“Now!” 

Purple flame exploded outwards in a Grand Fireball nearly the size of the Kyuubi’s head, singing fur and flesh and drawing a scream that must have shaken the mountains from one side of the continent to the other. Several of the men and women scattered below dropped to clap their hands over their ears even as Mito, brave and beautiful Mito, flung her body straight towards the source. For a single moment she existed as a streak of flame across the sky, red hair spilling behind her like a banner as her traditional buns unraveled with the force of such a violent movement. 

Then the motion ended as she impacted the beast’s hide palm first, black ink spidering out from underneath her touch. Even the trees themselves quaked with the force of the roar this time, the sound of an animal who knew it was about to be caged. Seeing his chance, Hashirama moved quickly to pin the lashing tails with bands of wood, holding them down for the howls to carry on in stillness. 

When the massive form began to ripple and waver Tobirama almost felt a touch of pity for the thing. To be caged for the rest of his life was something he couldn’t imagine. But the feeling was easy to brush away as he looked out at the carnage surrounding them, steeling his heart to the vision of the Nine-Tailed Beast shrinking in size as it was pulled in to Mito’s body. For such a momentous act Tobirama felt almost let down by the anticlimactic silence when it was over.

Mito stood where the Kyuubi had, tall and proud. Then even from a distance Tobirama could see her tremble before she crumpled to the earth like a doll. Hashirama was by her side almost as fast as though he too was able to utilize the hiraishin. 

Concern warred with the instinct to give the two of them some space and Tobirama married the two urges by asking Madara to dismiss his Susano’o, taking the time to walk across the clearing by the power of his own legs rather than flashing across with the marker Hashirama carried. When they arrived his hands were already limned in green chakra and his brows pulled together with deep concentration. Thankfully for their sanity he did not look too worried. 

“She doesn’t appear to be injured,” he announced as they and several others drew close. “I think the shock of absorbing so much extra chakra was just a little too hard and her mind shut down to protect her until she finds a balance.” 

“Are you alright?” Tobirama asked. His brother looked up at him with a wan expression. 

“I’m…uninjured.”

With a nod Tobirama turned to Madara, gently cupping that precious face with one hand. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine too,” the man growled. He did not, however, pull away from the touch. They held each other’s eyes for a moment of understanding before Tobirama turned back to the pair on the ground. 

“Uninjured is fine but that wasn’t my question. You looked distraught when we arrived.”

“Of course I’m distraught! Look around you!” 

The outburst was so unlike the Hashirama that others knew and shock was plain to see on many of the faces around them. For Tobirama, however, it brought him nothing but a clench in his chest. It may have been years since he heard that tone but he would have remembered the heartbreak it carried until the end of his days. The last he’d heard it they had stood over a fresh grave after burying their mother between the bodies of their younger siblings.

“You know better than most than many injuries can look much worse than they truly are,” he murmured. Squatting down, he laid a hand on the other’s shoulder. “I know it seems as though we lost many lives today but until we get a tally from the medics we can’t know that for sure. Many more could have survived.”

Hashirama lifted his face to show that tears once more streamed over his cheeks. “But they didn’t. They’re gone. He’s gone.” 

“Who is?” 

“Father,” Hashirama whispered. 

A great empty nothingness seemed to echo in Tobirama’s chest as he followed his brother’s line of sight down the path to where the Kyuubi must have met with the first line of resistance. Miles away at this point, he wasn’t able to see where the body of his father lay. He didn’t care to. What state the flesh was in mattered little if the mind had gone cold. 

He waited for the pain. For the sense of loss. The last time he had seen Butsuma’s face it struck him for the first time in years that they were family – not a happy one, perhaps, but blood all the same. Now the man was gone and with him any chance that they might someday recover the relationship that had never had a proper chance to grow. And Tobirama, to his small secret shame, felt nothing. 

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said at last, an empty platitude to fill the silence as his brother continued to stare up at him expectantly. Hashirama didn’t look surprised but neither did he look at all comforted. 

“What are we going to do?”

“Get these people back home, I imagine.” That particular wisdom came from Izuna as the man approached. “I’ve instructed my teams to search the area and retrieve any dead or wounded left behind. They took too bloody long waiting for the right moment to make an attack and I’m not happy with their performance. So now since they didn’t actually see much battle they get to enjoy the clean up afterwards.” 

“Right. Touka can have any of her people who have a talent for earth jutsu restore the forest as best they can until Hashirama is able to see to the trees.” Tobirama nodded to his brother-in-law, unsurprised by the hesitation before Izuna nodded back. 

Between them, Madara craned his neck to peer down the alley of destruction where Butsuma supposedly lay. It didn’t take a genius to guess where his thoughts were drifting. Neither of their first responders had been seen since they dashed off, their blood running hot with reckless competition. If Butsuma had gone to his final rest here in the forest then chances were Tajima had too. Tobirama waited but his husband said nothing, turning his head away with a telling tension at the corners of his eyes. No one present saw fit to mention it. 

“Izu is right,” he muttered. “Let’s get these people back to the village. We’ll need to gather the council for a debrief. Shit, wait, Izuna can you also send one of your people to find the rest of that team who came to warn us? There wasn’t time to ask but–”

“We need to know  _ why _ ,” Tobirama finished for him. 

“On it.” Just like that the man was off again.

Hashirama used the utmost care as he cradled his wife between both arms and lifted her, for once not looking around to see to others before taking off towards safety himself. Although the greater good often took priority over many things in his eyes there were few if any things in this world that could possibly be more important to him than the safety of his beloved wife. Tobirama watched them go and thought to himself that once he had envied their bond. How funny it was to think of it now and realize that he had the same. 

Urging his own beloved to go ahead, Tobirama stayed to organize those wandering around the field looking lost, some of them bearing the frantic expression of those who had lost sight of their loved ones. He urged them to allow the allotted team to comb through the area before descending in to panic. Many injured had already been taken to the hospital and extra bodies milling about would only impede the progress of others reaching the same help. 

At a certain point he had to realize that he was mostly killing time, putting off the inevitable as though hoping that the council would meet without him. Unfortunately he knew the one they would not start without was Hashirama and since he would have taken the time to ensure his wife was more than comfortable in the proper care it wasn’t likely the debrief would have even started yet. Not to mention the fact that Madara was likely to glare the lot of them in to submission if they tried to go ahead without Tobirama’s sizable brain there to point out the angles no one else ever seemed able to see. 

Knowing it would be better to get this over with did nothing to make him feel any more enthusiastic but still Tobirama forced himself to turn back towards the village when there was only petty busywork left to occupy himself with. The meeting needed to happen. As a council they needed to make a decision on how to react to these events and how to proceed now that their two nominal ‘leaders’ had both fallen. Yet something in the back of his mind couldn’t help pretending that if he never went to the meeting then he would never have to admit that all of this was real. 

Clearly he’d been spending too much time in Hashirama's presence for such childish notions to have any hold over him. 

What drove him forward despite his distaste for it all was the same urge which had driven plenty of his most self-destructive urges in the past: his need to know. The need for answers that had a tendency to blot out the rest of the world. Tobirama set his feet towards the village center and he would have damned his own curiosity if he wasn’t so achingly aware that he would have eventually gone anyway. 

Duty had been bred in to him at a young age, pressed in to his skin so deeply it could almost be considered a personality trait on its own at this point. He might drag his feet and put it off but in the end this was his home and he would do what he needed to for this village. That was his duty and Tobirama had long accepted that he was nothing if not a dutiful man. 

To his husband. To his family. To his people. 


	39. Chapter 39

The silence in the tower when Madara entered it felt a lot like the silence of night, the only other time one might find this place so empty of busy workers. Beyond a few of the civilian paper pushers the only ones present were the elders that Madara wasn’t entirely sure had even moved during this whole episode. He certainly hadn’t seen them on the field. After all the blood spilled that afternoon it rankled to think their supposed ‘betters’ had all been hunkered down here in the safety of the village while every other able bodied person was out risking their lives just to provide that safety. 

A quick stretch of his senses told him that Hashirama had not yet arrived and probably wouldn’t for a while, so Madara allowed his steps to drag as he trudged up the many staircases to the top floor. Exiting the stairwell, he paused with a look to his left, staring in to the empty cavern of Tajima’s office. With so many people all working in the same building there would no doubt be someone else filling that space before long. The thought made him smile in a sad sort of way. Whoever ended up taking the office they were sure to yell at him less than the previous occupant had. That was a nice thought. He hoped they also had better decorating sense than to hang their walls with nothing more than bare weaponry.

It ached in a strange way to know that his father was gone and he knew that when he finally allowed the reality of it all to crash down on him it would hurt even more. Overhearing the news from some of the clean up crew with nothing to soften the blow had been a dagger in the heart he hadn’t seen coming. For now Madara was doing everything he could to push those feelings down and concentrate on what needed to be done. He could fall apart when it was just him and his husband, when he and Izuna sequestered themselves to mourn something they’d already lost many years ago. 

Tajima might not have been the best of fathers but he was  _ their _ father and he had loved them once. No one outside of their clan would ever truly understand how they could still love anyone who treated them the way Tajima had but Madara knew that it was not the man’s fault that he had been broken. 

Forcing those thoughts to one side, he refocused and let his feet take him inside the conference room between the two empty offices. Only a handful of the clan heirs had made it back, younger fighters who easily answered the call to arms, but something hot turned over in his belly to note that nearly all of the clan heads themselves were still here looking just as unmoved as he’d suspected. Most of them had been in their position long enough to reach an age where they began to think about retiring to the position of clan elder instead and it seemed they thought that exempted them from combat somehow. The notable absences were the InoShikaCho heads and the Hatake clan head, whom Madara had personally seen on the battlefield attempting to sink her own teeth in to the Kyuubi’s ankle. A brave woman indeed. He truly had not been surprised to see Susumu-sensei fighting at her side. 

When Tobirama arrived at last Madara was the first to spot him, having held himself apart from the others to keep his temper in check. His husband wore an oddly insular expression but Madara wasn’t all that surprised to see him easily accept a hand reaching out to him. They might have been in public with all the other most politically important figures of their village in plain view but the empty high of surviving another day together hadn’t quite faded yet for either of them. 

“What took you so long?” he asked in a low voice.

“If I said I got lost would you believe me?” Tobirama mumbled back. Madara smiled, a wan expression. 

“No. But I would understand.”

They shared a look and for a moment he considered probing further but decided against it. If Tobirama wished to dawdle, well, it wasn’t like everyone else had arrived either. As the room slowly filled up around them they kept to themselves in one corner and enjoyed a few moments of silent communication. For the hundredth time Madara gently cursed his past self as a fool for not seeing the happiness that had been right there at his side for months before he deigned to give them a chance. 

Eventually Tobirama seemed to shake off whatever reverie had him in its grasp and look around with judgment tightening the corners of his mouth. 

“It is perhaps a good thing that none of these idiots have singular control,” he noted. “See the panic in their eyes? They’re flustered. None of them know what to do.” 

“Do we?” Madara asked, trying for a bit of humor to lighten the mood. 

“I know enough not to panic,” Tobirama grunted.

“Fair, that is fair. You’re right. This is exactly why we decided that oligarchy was best.”

With a shake of his head Tobirama huffed. “I thought it was because they were all too proud to subject themselves to being under any of the others’ rule. Idiots. Too many cooks in the kitchen will always lead to disaster.”

Madara was still trying to work through the hilarity of Tobirama using a cooking metaphor to describe the leaders of their village when Izuna stepped in to the room, looking around before heading straight in their direction. For once in his life he had absolutely no reaction whatsoever to seeing them stand so close, not even a brief wrinkle of his nose. 

“Everyone’s doing what they’re supposed to be doing, I think,” he reported. “I’ve got my teams combing the area to bring in the injured or collect repairable weaponry. Waste not want not and all that. Passed Touka-san on the way back and she’s already got her teams organized as well. I overheard her instructing them to keep an eye out for bodies that might have been buried in the madness so when it’s all said and done we should at least have a record of everyone.” 

“Father…” Madara began to speak but as soon as the word was out of his mouth he realized he had no idea what to say. Neither was this the place to say it. He was both grateful and saddened when Izuna took a deep breath and simply nodded. 

“I know,” was all he said.

That was enough. Both of them understood each other’s complicated feelings about their father, there was no need to hash it out here for the entire council to see their tears. For heartbeat the silence lingered, heavy and pregnant with too many things none of them were willing to give voice, until finally Tobirama broke it with a smooth and even tone. 

“If I know my brother he will ask that we find a way to honor the fallen for their sacrifice.” The words were mused as though spoken absently, though he had to know he fooled no one. 

“What, like a public announcement or compensation or something?” Izuna asked.

“Something like that. Perhaps a monument of some sort. We had a register at the old compound to record the names of everyone who gave their lives for the clan. He used to read through it once a year. Said that their memories didn’t deserve to fade away.” 

Madara rolled his eyes. “That sounds just like our resident bleeding heart.” 

It wasn’t long after that before nearly everyone necessary for a proper meeting was present yet still none of them made any move to organize themselves to their usual seats until Hashirama appeared in the doorway with the distinct tension in his body of a man doing something he did not want to do. That something was made obvious when he stepped inside to reveal Mito following along behind with a hard look on her face, a similar determination to the one she had worn as she sealed the Kyuubi itself inside her own body. Most of the room’s occupants did their best to look away from her hand where it rested absently over her belly. 

As though they had all been frozen in place, no one moved while Hashirama led his wife to the closest available chair and hovered anxiously until he was sure she had been comfortably settled. Only then did he look up and the room leapt back in to motion all at once. Men and women shuffled about looking for their usual seats as Madara watched his husband stop at Mito’s side to lean down and murmur with her quietly, no doubt asking if she was truly alright for this meeting. 

By the time he stood again there were no seats left but for a few at the opposite end so Madara hauled his brother down the table to sit side by side. This left Tobirama with only his own father’s seat to fill, which he did with a look of mild distaste. If it weren’t so somber it would have been amusing to know that they began this day with Tajima and Butsuma at their heads and would end the day with Tobirama and Mito facing each other down the length of the room. Humor, however, was the farthest thing from any of their minds at the moment. 

“The beast is…contained?” a quivering voice asked from somewhere near the center, all eyes drawn to the ancient Shimura clan head who had spoken. 

“He is,” Mito responded with a startlingly clear voice. “No thanks to the likes of you.” 

She watched the man sputtering with absolutely no emotion until before long he subsided on his own. Then Hashirama cleared his throat to bring attention to himself instead, looking back at them all with deeply sad eyes.

“For those of you who have not heard, I regret to inform you that the deaths of both Senju Butsuma and Uchiha Tajima have been confirmed. They fell in defense of this village we all built together, as so many others did, and their memories will be honored.” Just saying the words seemed to pain him and Madara remembered with a jolt that unlike his brother he still held love for a father that had never bothered to return such sentiments.

Madara was almost unaware of his hand reaching out to grasp at Tobirama’s under the table until he felt Izuna taking his other from the opposite side. News of this had already touched him and yet for just a moment he wavered, closing his eyes to breathe deeply before he was able to push everything down once more. Hearing the word ‘confirmed’ somehow made it all so much more real. 

“We are sorry for your loss,” the Hatake heir told them and voices all around the room mumbled the same.

“As much as the sentiment is appreciated,” Tobirama spoke up, “mourning is a private thing and I should like to focus on other pressing matters. Have we had word from the hospital?” 

“Some people are still in critical condition but it looks like we may not have lost as many lives as it seemed like.” Hashirama seemed at least cheered by that, as were many of the others. 

“Good. Izuna has already brought news that cleanup efforts are underway by those with energy left to expend and Touka has double regular patrols at their stations. This is not the time to be caught vulnerable.” 

Nodding along with his husband, Madara squeezed both of the hands in his own and looked around the room. “Do we have any idea at all what the beast wanted? I honestly used to think these creatures were just legends but even in the old tales I’ve never heard of them attacking humans unprovoked. Could something be controlling it?” 

Quite a few people seemed ready to offer their opinions on just who might have the means to control a tailed beast and why they suspected those groups but a muted growl from Mito hushed them all. That was far from any sound one might expect to hear from such a refined lady. Or from anything not an animal, for that matter. It seemed to have startled her as well judging by the delicate hand she pressed to her lips. 

“Forgive my indiscretion. I can assure you all that the Kyuubi is well and safely sealed within me, though he is far from a willing passenger. His voice appears in my mind. And evidently he does not appreciate the insinuation that he could be so weak as to allow a mere human to control him.” Mito did not look down at her own stomach but the haughty exasperation on her face was clearly meant for the one inside of her. A little off-kilter to consider the idea that this woman would have to hear voices for the rest of her life, Madara chose to stay focused on his original point. 

“Does it listen if you talk back? I’m wondering if it would reveal the reason it attacked if nothing was driving it towards us.”

“He,” Mito snapped. “The Kyuubi is a he, not an it, and I do not appreciate being subjected to his ranting each time you insult him like that.”

“Alright well does  _ he _ have anything to say about why the fuck he chose to attack us?” Already close to an emotional state, Madara couldn’t help snapping back at her. 

Clearly she was unimpressed. He didn’t care. She didn’t need to be impressed with him, she just needed to squeeze the beast inside until it gave them all a few answers. The two of them stared each other down until Tobirama, likely impatient considering the situation, cleared his throat rather pointedly. Mito cleared her expression and answered as though nothing had happened. 

“He’s being quite vocal on that at the moment. According to him it was not him who attacked us but us who first attacked him. I believe he mistook our investigation party for an act of aggression. When they discovered him as the source of chakra they were sent to investigate they fled and he followed, looking to eliminate whoever it was that disturbed him. He found us instead.”

“Just an animal defending itself. Oh, the poor thing.” Hashirama's body sagged with grief as though that ‘poor thing’ had not just taken several lives. 

Squinting at his friend, Madara didn’t need to consider it much to guess that the idiot was entirely sincere in that pity. When he thought about it, however, he realized that for once in his life perhaps the other man was right to express his softer side. It didn’t matter how much they all evolved; at the core of their biology they were all still just animals reacting to the world around them. As they grew they learned to ignore their instincts but in moments of danger when they feared for their lives the most those instincts had a way of flooding back in to take control over all other higher brain functions. 

What blame was there to be given to an animal who feared a human attack? Madara realized with a jolt that he, too, could sympathize with the beast when he looked at it like that. This was no calculated attack. This was an ancient beast defending its right to exist after centuries of staying carefully apart from humanity. 

In their response to  _ his _ response Madara supposed they had proved him right to be afraid.

“You’re saying we have no recourse?” Incensed, the Hyuga head slammed his fist against the council table. “Someone needs to pay for this!” 

“Does having his freedom taken away and being sealed within the body of another not count as payment enough for you?” Tobirama asked in a chilly voice. Hyuga-sama blinked, thought about his words for perhaps two seconds, and then subsided. 

“I did not think before I spoke.”

“No, you didn’t,” Tobirama agreed.

Madara bit his lip and tried not to smile too obviously. He enjoyed nothing quite so much as watching his man put others in their place with but a few snappy sentences. When the Nara heir cleared his throat it was a timely distraction.

“Forgive my callousness but with Tajima-sama and Butsuma-sama gone how are we to proceed? Although they both claimed leadership can we truly say they acted as such?” After pausing to allow that subtle dig to sink in he continued. “It sounds bothersome but what we need, in my opinion, is a more clear direction. A more clear line of command. With so many voices all trying to steer this ship we can go nowhere but off course.” 

“Sailing metaphors from a Nara?” someone whispered incredulously. Madara blinked. It was just a metaphorical day, apparently. 

“I posit that the idea of an oligarchy no longer works for this village. We need one person in charge with steady advisors. The rest of us may act as a council when necessary.” Having said his piece the man sat down, hardly bothered in any way when the woman to his right gave a low chuckle. 

Leaning over to stage whisper, the Yamanaka heir asked him, “Was that your way of asking for the job?” 

His answer was a bored sigh.

“That sounds like a smart idea,” Hashirama mused. “The question is: who do we all trust equally? Who would make a good leader? It would have to be someone that the people would follow.”

“You,” Madara grunted. He’d never met anyone more prone to gathering a trail of people all begging for his loving attention. 

“Me?” The dumbass actually had the gall to look surprised. 

“Did I stutter? You fit all of those categories – and another that you failed to mention. Whoever leads us will need to be strong. Whoever stands at the top of the food chain is the face we’re choosing to represent us to the rest of the world. You’re a friendly face, sure, but you’re also the strongest of us all.” 

Izuna hummed dubiously beside him. “It might sound counterintuitive but I would think you  _ wouldn’t _ want your strongest person in charge. That makes them a target. I would say your secret weapon should be kept in reserve.” 

“You yourself would be a good candidate,” Tobirama said, squeezing Madara's hand. “You’re a good leader, the people would follow, and you’re nearly as strong as Anija.” 

While Madara was busy spluttering over such open compliments Mito was shaking her head.

“As much as I wish to support my husband I feel you are overlooking one thing,” she said. “To place either of you in charge would seem to others to give preference to either the Senju or the Uchiha. Your fathers shared power. Either of you as a single successor would look to others as though you were taking advantage of this opportunity to grab that power for yourself. Whether that is your intention or not doesn’t matter, what matters is the impression given.”

“So  _ you _ take the helm then,” Madara snapped. She certainly fit all the noted qualifications. The look she gave back to him was filled with so much attitude he was surprised she still managed to make it look graceful. 

“Perhaps it has slipped your mind that a political leader must on occasion leave the village? With the Kyuubi inside of me that would not be a smart thing to do. I took on this responsibility knowing that it would inhibit my freedoms; I am not a candidate for the position.” 

Numerous voices all chimed in with different names for candidacy, frequently their own, always with another voice pointing out why that wasn’t such a good idea. Madara listened to the lot of them without giving much consideration to any of the options they were presenting. He didn’t need to since none of them were really very good options. What they needed was someone who encompassed all of the qualities Hashirama had already listed but it needed to be someone who wouldn’t cause any waves, someone who had the ability to be impartial to all. 

And on top of all that he supposed they needed to be good at the subtler parts of leadership. Whoever it was would become the center of politics in their settlement and they would need to hold their own in any discussions with the other villages that rumor said were forming in the other lands. For all that they would need a good head for politics. Slumping back in his seat, he realized with no small amount of relief that he himself  _ really _ didn’t qualify. His temper was just too quick. 

That was alright. After seeing the sort of pressures his father had been under he wasn’t all that enthusiastic about taking them on for himself. Not to mention that he supposed he would be busy anyway. The world tilted a little around him as it finally hit that he was the head of the Uchiha clan now. They would need to have some sort of official ceremony for that at some point. 

“If I might,” Izuna’s voice cut across the chaos. “What about Tobirama?” His words brought silence and attention, allowing all to witness the way both Madara and his husband turned to stare at the man with jaws hanging loose. 

“What did you just say?” Madara demanded. His brother avoided looking at either of them.

“He’s one of the strongest in the village, paperwork and politics are his strong suits, the people would follow him. But most importantly he’s got a connection to both the Senju, his birth clan, and the Uchiha, who he married in to. He has personal connections to both clan heads. Not to mention that he’s proven himself able to keep a level head in times of emergency and remain impartial to clan names when settling disputes.” Izuna shifted uncomfortably and crossed his arms. “Just putting that put there.”

Hardly able to believe his ears, Madara knew that his shock could only be doubled in the man on his other side. When he looked he found Tobirama with his red eyes so wide they looked ready to pop right out on to the conference table. It was difficult to tell whether he was more surprised by his nomination or the fact that Izuna had spoken well of him at all. Neither probably help the other much. 

“You’re the last person I expect to hear that from,” Tobirama breathed faintly, confirming Madara's thoughts. All Izuna did was shrug without meeting his eyes. 

“Now isn’t the time for petty grudges. Our mother always used to say that it was the duty of the younger generations to surpass their elders. We need to do better than our fathers.”

“Izu...” Under the table Madara clung as tightly as he dared.

“But would you follow?” Tobirama murmured. “If you’re trying to stick me in charge of everything – a job I am certainly not looking for by the way – then you would have to take orders from me. That’s kind of the point of being in charge.” 

For a minute or two that felt like forever Izuna was silent, giving that question its due consideration. At last he drew himself up with a deep breath and nodded confidently. “I would follow you. You’ve been…good to my brother. And to my people. Whatever my opinions have been of you in the past, I can admit that you handled our conflict in better ways than I did. You are what this village needs. I don’t have to like a fact to recognize the truth of it.”

Voices around the table murmured with general positive tones, prompting Tobirama to glance around at them all with the look of prey realizing it’s been spotted by a predator. 

“You’re not all seriously considering this, are you?” he said. 

“The one who does not ask to lead is quite often the one best suited for the task,” Mito noted. She had a distinctly amused air hovering about her, though whether that was for Tobirama’s reaction or her husband weeping with pride beside her was difficult to tell. 

Madara flashed his own partner an apologetic look before raising his voice. “Does anyone have any significant objections to this?” 

“I do,” Tobirama grumbled quietly to the sight of all their heads shaking. 

“All in favor?” 

“Don’t do this to me…”

His piteous whine was drowned out by the chorus of men and women all deciding his future for him in a near-unanimous vote. Madara would have felt bad for him if he didn’t believe so strongly that his brother was right, Tobirama was exactly the person they all needed at the helm, the best man to keep them all on the right path while treating others fairly and putting his big brain to good use. It was time for him to step out of the background and take credit for all the work he’d already put in to this home he was quietly so proud of. 

“It seems you are our new leader,” the Nara head drawled. “Your position will need a name. Can’t just call you ‘leader’ or whatever. What shall we call you, then?” 

“The Hokage,” Hashirama burst out, entirely unashamed by the way he was sobbing all over himself. “You always said that the one in charge should be like the shadow cast by the light of their people, a reflection of their needs. This is the Land of Fire, after all, so why not the fire’s shadow?” 

Perhaps seeing how the suggestion horrified Tobirama, Izuna was the first to speak up with a cheerful, “I like it!” 

“Congratulations, Hokage-sama,” Madara said. His husband gave him a poisonous look. 

“I thought you loved me,” he snapped. 

“Very much so. This really is for your own good, I promise.”

“I didn’t ask for this.” Every line in Tobirama’s body was tense with displeasure but his eyes held no true anger, only the acknowledgment of yet another duty that Madara had no doubt he would perform spectacularly. 

Others also offered their congratulations and well wishes, to which Tobirama was forced to respond with as much grace as he could muster. It took nearly a quarter of an hour for the room to calm down enough that he could get everyone’s attention.

“We cannot claim to lead the people of this village if we make decisions on their behalf like dictators. I beg of the council to put this matter to a vote. Give our people a choice, let them decide who they will follow, and remember that whoever fills the position will need advisors. They will not rule entirely alone.” He looked around the room with the expression of a man grasping at straws. Luckily for him there were many willing to indulge this last request. 

It was, in fact, deemed a very smart move and Izuna took an obviously sadistic pleasure out of noting that suggesting such a thing only cemented him as the best option. Madara had to fight with himself not to laugh out loud at the expression on his partner’s face after that comment. 

There were a dozen other things for them to cover during that meeting, assessment of damages, the cost of medical care, fostering protocols for any children now left without a guardian, and Madara did what he could to offer as much of himself as possible. He gave suggestions for how they might make a bit of extra money in the coming seasons and floated the concept of a retirement fund to be revisited in the near future. For the most part, however, he sat back and listened as all the emotions of the day slowly pressed down upon him until he was nearly squirming in his seat as badly as Hashirama sometimes did. 

At some points it felt as though they had already been locked up in that room forever and would be there forever more. In truth it was only a few hours, though that was a few hours more than Madara wished his poor bottom had been forced to sit in the same spot going numb. He was still wearing his damn armor, too. When finally they all agreed that the important issues had been covered and they had made all the decisions they could until tomorrow he was one of the first to stand up.

His wince at the cracking of his back was followed by another wince as he peeked sideways. Tobirama’s face was distant, detached, and Madara wondered if he had the strength for damage control. 

“Do you want to walk home?” he asked. “Or should we take the short way?” He wasn’t prepared for the man to shake out of his stupor enough to look surprised.

“I had assumed you might wish to spend some time with your brother. You both looked…rather affected by the day’s events.” 

“Honestly I just want to curl up on the couch somewhere I feel safe. And, I don’t know, it feels wrong to leave you alone when you lost your father too. Just because you weren’t close to him doesn’t mean it won’t have some kind of impact.” Madara shrugged and then leaned in to it when he felt Izuna’s head appear to rest atop his pauldrons.

Tobirama watched them quietly until Izuna straightened again and then sighed. Not a tired sigh or even one of reluctance, just the gentle exhalation of a long day. “Why don’t you ask your brother to join us, then, if he has a bit of good will left in him. I’ll make us all some dinner. That way you’ll have both of us close and I can still allow the two of you some privacy.”

“Works for me.” Izuna gave a light shrug. “I might even be feeling nice enough to keep any suspicions about my food being poisoned to myself.” 

After squinting at him to make sure the man was only joking Madara rolled his eyes. He didn’t really hold out any hope that his brother and his husband would ever truly like each other but if Izuna was prepared to raise the white flag at last that was good enough for him. Tobirama had offered an olive branch when he offered his most prized weapon. It was almost surprising that Izuna was a big enough man to accept it considering how long he’d stubbornly clung to childish, unfounded hatred. 

Now for the first time Madara could enjoy the presence of them both under the same roof willingly and it felt like the worst sort of irony that it took yet another tragedy to get them here. What strength he had managed to hold on to throughout the meeting felt like it was draining fast. He said nothing when his sibling wrapped an arm around him, only looked up beseechingly at his husband until Tobirama nodded and reached for both of them. A moment later they were home and Madara felt no shame to close his eyes as the first tear spilled out.

He was closed in a tight hug within seconds, plated armor clanging together in the most uncomfortable way, and that was all that mattered. The ones left by his side were safe and well and he would fight till the last breath left his body to keep them all that way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know a lot of people were expecting some sort of manipulation by another village or even Zetsu to be behind Kurama's attack but here's the jam: no. :D This au had always been meant to find a happy and peaceful ending with no hints that anyone outside the village is attempting to manipulate them or their future. Kurama might be one of the most destructive forces on earth but he's also just an animal and animals will defend themselves against any perceived danger. I wanted him to come in to the story, not as a ticking time bomb in Mito's belly that would lead them to seek out all the other tailed beasts, but rather as a catalyst for peace through war - sort of, you know, hint hint relating back to the title of the story. So yeah in this au Zetsu doesn't even exist and everyone who has worked for a happy ending gets one. Cause I'm soft like that.


	40. Chapter 40

In the days following the Kyuubi attack things went back to normal at a surprisingly quick rate. With such fast response times a great majority of the injured were either home by the end of that same day or sometime during the next. Very few required longer to recover than a week of bed rest and many who were expected not to make it managed to pull through by some miracle. Hashirama surprised no one when he tearfully suggested their skilled medical staff receive some kind of commendation for their efforts. 

A full two weeks afterwards Madara woke with the kind of lazy slowness only allowed when he didn’t have to get up at a specific time for work. While the rest of the village had been quietly nesting in their homes to recuperate, those who worked in the bureaucracy had been working double time to reorganize, revamp, and prepare. Madara would like to say that he was one of those who had worked the hardest.

Now as he fluttered his eyes open to stare muggily at the ceiling he felt a little bereft to realize that he was alone in the bed. Tobirama still had trouble sleeping in sometimes, he knew that well enough, but he much preferred the days when the man at least stayed in bed until they could greet each other with soft morning kisses. Without him the bed felt cold, uninviting. No good for lazing about. Madara grumbled as he rolled over and sat up to throw the blankets off. Before standing up he stretched, legs rising from the floor and arms reaching for the sky in a pose he would be mortified to get caught in, jaw stretched wide in a massive yawn. When he stood it was with half-mast lids and shuffling steps.

Once he’d rinsed his face with bracingly cold water he felt much more alert, awake enough to brave the stairs in search of his missing partner. Unfortunately Tobirama wasn’t to be found in the kitchen or the living room or even the study. It took until he was staring out the back door for his tired brain to wake up enough that he realized he was being stupid; there was a much easier way to search for the man. 

He of course was not surprised to stretch his senses and find the one he was looking for in the Senju compound, although he was a little confused, and Madara decided that trailing after the other could wait at least until after a cup of coffee. No one was really expecting him anywhere until noon today when the polling stations quickly set up around the administration tower were due to be teeming with people. As he sat and drank his caffeine he thought about how strange it was, the direction his life had taken. Barely a couple of years before he had been living miles away on ancestral Uchiha grounds believing he would never be anything more to the world than the head of their clan someday. It had seemed to him then like a good life. Now his name was one of those being voted on to lead an entire village, a dozen and more clans from all across their nation, and he had a husband that he could never have dreamed of. 

A husband he should go find. Madara left his cup unwashed in the sink and scampered back upstairs to get dressed. Then he marched out of their home with every intention of tracking Tobirama down to demand the morning kisses he had been so cruelly denied.

With how late he’d slept in the amount of people out on the streets was only to be expected. Madara reminded himself to keep his patience as he got stuck behind the fourth old lady in a row, inching along with their walkers and canes. Leaving the Uchiha district only made it worse, traffic congesting every street, so it felt as though he’d been walking for a hundred years by the time he finally made it to the heart of the Senju district instead. In reality it had probably only been a half hour but logical thinking could wait until he was less annoyed. 

Thankfully his sharp knock was answered rather quickly, Touka’s face unsurprised as she took in the grumpy pout on her front stoop.

“He’s in the kitchen,” she grunted. “And he’s making a mess.” 

“Nothing explosive, I hope?” 

“Heh, no. Thank the fates. He’s just getting flour everywhere is all.” Amazingly she even managed to crack a smile for his half-serious joke, stepping back to allow him in. 

Madara nodded to his hostess and inched around the space she had left him then made sure to toe off his sandals before going any farther. In all the time they had known each other he’d only had reason to be in this home once before, Hashirama usually being the one to host if they all gathered for dinner. Just as he had been the last time Madara found himself drawn to the artwork hanging on the wall in gorgeous mokuton frames. Most of the pieces were done in simple black graphite but one of them had obviously been drawn with different colored pencils and the results were enough to lift one of his eyebrows. Buying this must have cost her a pretty penny.

“I don’t suppose you remember the name of this artist?” he asked, footsteps slow to give himself time to admire the artwork. “I would be quite interested in commissioning a piece or two for myself. These are excellent quality.” 

“Thank you.”

Shooting her an amused look, he clarified teasingly, “I wasn’t complimenting your taste.” 

“No but you were complimenting my work.” Touka lifted her nose in to the air with a tight smirk and swept past him, leaving Madara standing there with his eyes bugging out. 

“Wait!” he chased down the hall after her. “You drew all these!?” 

“Tell anyone and I will feed you every tooth out of your own face one by one.” She entered the kitchen with all the bearing of a royal empress and lowered herself down at the table where a half-eaten meal sat waiting for her return. Given a hundred guesses Madara would never have chosen her as the hands behind such beautiful and expressive artwork, not when her most common facial expressions were ‘stern’ and ‘blank’. The idea that she even had that many emotions to express was mind boggling.

All thoughts of Touka fell away, however, as he looked up across the kitchen and took in the sight of Tobirama standing by the counter with his sleeves rolled up and a light green apron tied over his front. Spots of flour and baking soda dotted about his person even around the apron and the countertop itself was a riot of ingredients. From the way he was pounding at the dough Madara got the distinct impression that it had insulted him, quite possibly his family as well. 

Very carefully he inched forward and did his level best to both safely announce his presence and also stay as quiet as possible, not wishing to disturb his husband in case he truly was in a bad mood. Once he’d made his way around in to the man’s field of view Tobirama’s eyes snapped over to look at him while his hands continued their work.

“You okay?” Madara ventured to ask. 

“Fine,” Tobirama grunted. “I’m just bloody peachy.”

“Indeed, that sounds like you are very fine.” 

The other snorted and pounded his dough again. Curious, Madara peeked down at the mess and cast his eye over all the things that looked like they had been used, trying to add them all together in his head to make some sort of recipe. Baking had never been one of his specialties. He was a decent cook but he’d always known that if he learned how to make sweets for himself he would balloon up like an Akimichi in barely a couple of months – and he certainly didn’t have their hereditary thick bone structure to help him carry so much weight at high speeds while in battle. 

Eventually he realized that his nose already recognized what his eyes did not and couldn’t help but grin. 

“Are you making gingerbread?” he asked. 

“Perhaps.”

“Does it need to be beaten quite that much?” A curious peek up at the other revealed the answer even before Tobirama had a chance to speak, eyes averted and cheeks ever so faintly pink.

“Not exactly. But it makes me feel better so shut your trap.” 

Madara hummed. “And here I thought you felt just peachy.”

If it wasn’t for years of training he would not have been quick enough to dodge the flour-dusted hand that came up to swat the back of his head. The two of them shared a secretive smile but it didn’t last long, interrupted when Touka stood back up from the kitchen table with a scraping of wood against tile. 

“Right, I don’t think I’m hungry enough to sit here and watch the two of you flirting. What has my life come to? Fleeing from my own home so other people can make out or whatever.” She heaved a well over-exaggerated sigh as she carried her plate over to scrape the remains of her breakfast in to the garbage. Not even Madara was fooled. 

He was, however, fascinated to see the unexpected warmth in her eyes. It was easy to remember the last time he’d been here, the suspicion with which she had looked at him, and it made his entire chest feel light to see how much things had changed for more people than just himself. During the uncertain period when he and Tobirama were making their first shaky steps towards not hating each other no one around them except for Hashirama seemed to approve of the opposite side very much. Touka had certainly been among those who obviously weren’t holding their breath for anything great to come out of this marriage. Now she looked at the two of them with approval, with happiness that her most precious person was so happy himself.

She did give them both a very pointed look on her way out, though, and he knew that no matter how glad she was that their relationship had gotten to this point she was also entirely joking about how okay she was with them making out in her kitchen. Madara tossed it back and forth in his mind whether or not he was going to heed that warning. It wasn’t like she would be here to monitor them. Nobody had to know if he felt a little overwhelmed by how cute his husband looked in that apron. 

“We do know how to behave,” Tobirama mumbled in to his dough but Touka was already passing him by with an almost patronizing clap to the shoulder. 

“Clean up after yourselves,” was all she said. Her hand lingered as she pulled away and Madara, well versed at this point in the Senju love language, concealed a smile to see how blatantly she showed her affection in front of him. Things truly had changed so much. 

Murmuring something about coming back in half an hour, Touka slipped out the back door and they could both feel her chakra hopping across the yard to raid Hashirama's home instead. It really was convenient for the two of them to live so close and yet Madara couldn’t imagine allowing his own brother the same freedoms. If Izuna lived only one yard away he would be underfoot so often the two of them would never have any alone time and there would never have been enough space for any sort of peace to be made between him and Tobirama. 

Izuna was far from what he had come here to think about, though. Madara shook his brother out of his head and used their new privacy to lean up for a quick kiss against his favorite tattoos. 

“Does punching the poor ingredients actually make you feel any better?” he asked. 

“Somewhat.” 

“Mn. Is that why you’re over here making a mess in someone else’s kitchen or did you just have a craving for gingerbread and get angry about it?” 

Again Tobirama’s cheeks pinked. “I needed something to hit and I remembered that Anija told me you enjoyed the last batch of gingerbread so I thought someone might as well benefit from my frustration.” 

“You’re not still that upset about today?”

“Of course I am.” Tobirama sighed and reached out to pull a baking sheet towards himself, separating the overworked dough in to equal spheres. “I don’t actually believe that many people in the village would purposely put me in charge but the possibility is still cause for worry.”

Madara smiled faintly, unsurprised. He should have guessed that the vote happening at noon today would be the source of his partner’s turmoil. Knowing that his own name was on the ballot was a little nerve-wracking but Madara had been prepared for the idea of leadership since the day he was born, had always known that he would be in charge of his own people, so the chance of more people wasn’t too big of a change for him. If he were being honest he really didn’t think he was the right man for the job but if somehow it did fall to him he was prepared to do his best. 

That wasn’t to say that Tobirama was unprepared to lead. As the second heir he too would have grown up knowing what his duties were. Madara wasn’t all that sure what the issue was now but all it took was leaning his head on the man’s arm for him to fall still and reveal his thoughts with no further prompting. 

“It feels wrong,” he murmured. 

“What does?”

“Being asked to step over my own brother as though all the work he’s put in means nothing. Or even being asked to step over you as though I am somehow your better. If anyone should lead it would be one of you. I am much better suited to running things behind the scenes like I always have; who would honestly want my face to represent them?” He frowned as his neat little rows of cookie dough. “I don’t even smile.” 

Catching his jaw with one hand, Madara brought that beloved face around to meet his own. “You smile for me.”

“Hmph.”

“Don’t just  _ hmph _ . You’re not stepping over either one of us, love. If the people vote for you – and they should – then they’re making a good choice because you are the right one for this job. I know you’re used to operating in the shadows but maybe it’s time for you to start taking credit for all the things you do, hm?” He lifted one brow pointedly, to which Tobirama scoffed. 

“And what exactly do I do?”

“Too much,” Madara grumbled.

Startled, for a moment Tobirama did nothing but look at him. Eventually he said, “I do as much as is necessary.”

“Just because everything you do is necessary doesn’t mean it all needs to get done by the same person. Sometimes it would be a lot healthier for you to share the load, you know?” Madara grinned. “A moot point if you take the majority vote. Then you’ll have new duties and other people will be taking over the things you used to do anyway. Everyone will know if you’re overworking yourself and no one is going to stop me from dragging you home at a decent hour if I have to.” 

“I come home at decent hours,” Tobirama protested. 

“Most nights. But don’t think I don’t know when you’ve left a clone at the office to keep working. You have tells for when the memories hit you later.” 

Pressing a kiss against those lips that so few were blessed to see curling up in the soft expressions he loved, Madara let go of Tobirama’s face and let him look away back to his cookies. Whatever thoughts were going through his mind were a mystery but it was obvious that he was thinking  _ something _ and so Madara kept his silence.

After a couple minutes his partner finally ran out of dough to fiddle with and sighed. 

“With how long it took your brother to see that I mean well how can I expect that an entire village would trust me to have their best interests in my heart?” As soon as he was finished speaking he snatched up one of the baking trays and marched over to the oven, leaving Madara behind with a stunned expression. 

“Is that what’s wrong?” 

“Madara–”

“No, wait. Is that actually what’s bothering you? The idea that you’re somehow not  _ good enough _ for the people of Konoha?” 

Once all the cookies were in the oven – and more likely to burn than anything with how overworked that dough had been – Tobirama had nowhere left to look but back at him. His features were all scrunched up with the distaste of talking about feelings, one of his least favorite things to do. His hands fiddled with an already dirty towel, running it between his fingers and scrubbing it over his palms, working as much gunk off of himself as possible without actually washing his hands, but his eyes never moved from where they’d been caught in Madara's gaze and the uncertain look in their depths was almost heartbreaking. 

“I very nearly failed as a husband,” he said quietly. “You’re just one person and I almost failed you. The idea of so many people putting their trust in me is, quite frankly, slightly terrifying when I can’t seem to get that out of my head.” 

“You did not nearly fail me,” Madara growled. 

Tobirama gave him a doubtful look so he closed the distance between them again to poke that solid chest. 

“Whatever problems we had at the beginning of this marriage were caused by  _ both _ of us being utter morons. You can’t just carry all the fault on your own shoulders. I definitely said some very terrible things that night, things I should not have even thought, and you were right to be angry at me for that. Had either one of us stopped to actually communicate it would have solved all our problems but you’re not the only one who didn’t.” Folding the digit he’d been using to poke, Madara flattened that hand against his partner’s chest for a softer touch. “You’ve worked hard in this marriage. Just because I was too stupid to see it then does not make it untrue.”

“You have an alarming amount of faith in me for someone who once prayed for my untimely disappearance.” Tobirama shifted uncomfortably under such blatant praise. 

“People are allowed to grow,” Madara told him loftily. 

And if he meant that as a response and a pointed statement at the same time, well, he’d been fortunate enough to marry someone skilled at reading between the lines. Clearly the man understood what he was getting at judging by the harrumphing sounds Tobirama was making instead of actually refuting his words. 

Because he couldn’t, really. There was no rebuttal available to him when Madara was right. Madara had always very much enjoyed being right. 

“So in conclusion,” he continued with a toss of his hair, “you’re sulking in a kitchen that isn’t your own and making cookies that aren’t even going to turn out edible because we had a rocky start to our marriage that was only half your fault at best? I had to wake up without kisses because you don’t feel worthy?” One of his eyebrows lifted with mock judgement.

“When you sum it up like that I sound like a child,” Tobirama protested. 

“If you don’t want me to call you a child then don’t act like one. Now, am I going to have to drag you out to the polls or will you come willingly?” 

“They’re not for a couple of hours yet. Leaving now would only be inviting my cousin’s house to burn down. I’m not sure it’s even necessary for us to go, anyway; shouldn’t the candidates stay away so we don’t seem to be influencing anyone?” 

Madara rolled his eyes, not fooled for a moment. “You’re not getting out of it that easily. Letting people see us there at the polls is supposed to be motivational or whatever. Hashirama was blathering on about it last night, something about letting them see our faces so they can be reminded that we care. I think. I wasn’t really listening to him.” 

Again his husband harrumphed, foiled in his rather pathetic efforts to get out of attending the day’s events. It would have been annoying if it weren’t so darn cute. Since he seemed determined in his sour mood Madara graciously let him be for a short while, observing in silence while Tobirama puttered around cleaning up all the messes he had made. It was unlike him to be so inconsiderate of his environment but Madara supposed it was possible he’d made himself so untidy in an unconscious attempt to excuse himself from going out in public. Even a stoic man like him could indeed be childish at times. 

It seemed to run in the family, honestly.

Unfortunately Tobirama’s efficiency was a trait all his own and it worked against him now. The kitchen was clean in what must have felt to him like no time at all. He looked a little lost in the aftermath, towel in hand as he swung his head from side to side, eyes longing for something else to focus on. 

“You know, I sort of forgot that you could bake,” Madara said, throwing him a bone. 

“Ah. Yes. It’s something that I usually save for when I need a non-violent stress reliever.”

“Mn, I don’t know, you were getting pretty violent with that dough.” His grin did nothing to deter those pretty red eyes from turning to narrow at him with annoyance. 

Incredibly, no retribution came. Instead Tobirama only stared at him for a moment, turned back to contemplate his baking cookies, then returned to staring at Madara with a dangerous sort of light dawning in his eyes. Gears were turning in that wicked mind. Sometimes that could be a good thing but at the moment it could only be something suspicious. When one corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly Madara knew he was right to be worried. 

“How about you help distract me with some other entertainments, then? I can think of other ways we might get…violent.” His leer was a surprisingly well practiced expression from someone who typically preferred a more subtle invitation. 

“Something tells me your cousin would not appreciate us violating her kitchen like that,” Madara grumbled, his cheeks already heating up. 

He still wasn’t used to being as open with his sexuality as the other man – learning to be, but not quite there yet. There were still years upon years of being taught to suppress his urges to combat. He did still welcome his husband with open arms when Tobirama stepped up close to grant him the kisses he’d come all the way across the village to look for. A little embarrassed he might be but never let it be said that he would ever allow a bit of heat in his face to keep him from a good smooch. 

Of course, he should have known better. Tobirama was a master at distracting him away from talking about feelings and he’d been as quick to learn weaknesses in this arena as he had been in any other. Before he knew it Madara found himself with his back to the counter and strong hands framing his hips. Lips hot against his own stole the breath from his lungs, gentle pressure rolling their bodies together, and if he were just a slightly weaker man he would have given in to the fog threatening to slip down over him. As it was his entire body protested when he used the flat of his palm to separate them, arousal stirring warm in his belly. He ignored it regretfully.

“What did I just say about your cousin?” The scolding tone he was aiming for came out only slightly marred by his lack of oxygen. 

“I was trying to convince you to think of other things.” Tobirama sighed. 

“Believe me, I am thinking of them,” Madara admitted. “I just think now is not the time. Later.” 

“Promise?” his partner asked with an interested look. 

With an exasperated chuckle he nodded. “I promise. Later. We’ll make it a celebration when you are inevitably voted in.”

Unsurprisingly that lost him the warmth of a willing body against his own but as it turned out that was a good thing as only after they separated did Madara notice the rather sizable problem in his trousers. Better to use what time they had left convincing that to go away before their hostess returned. Which, considering how he hadn’t at all been paying attention to the clock, could really be any minute. 

He was not entirely wrong about that. Though she was merciful enough to give them slightly more than the offered half hour of privacy, Touka's return came only a handful of minutes after Madara finally convinced his body to calm down. 

The first thing she did upon entering the home was shout down the hall to ask if they were decent. Only once they had confirmed that both of them were fully clothed did she kick off her sandals and wander in to the kitchen, eyes narrowed at the two of them suspiciously. Madara considered making some kind of comment about how clean the room was to assuage her worries but stopped himself as he realized that, were it him, he probably would have taken that to mean they’d been trying to cover up the evidence. Nothing else occurred to him to say so instead he bent down to hide his face by checking on the cookies.

Burnt to a crisp. 

“Should we have taken these out of the oven?” he asked. Tobirama swung around to stare at him with wide eyes. 

“I…yes. They were only supposed to cook for ten minutes. How did we not smell them burning!?” 

The energy with which he leapt across the kitchen was impressive to say the least, the sort of rapid fire movement one typically didn’t see off of a battlefield. Touka was already howling with shameless laughter as she answered.

“You make so much nonsense downstairs and I got tired of the smells so I had Mito whip me up a few seals to keep that and the smoke out of my kitchen. That was back before she redid the new ones to keep you safe, I’d entirely forgotten they were there!” Crossing both hands over her middle she folded in half to belt her amusement at the floor in graceless barks. Standing with his tray of ruined cookies between oven-mittened hands, Tobirama clearly did not appreciate her display.

“Don’t you think the laughter is a little unnecessary?” he snapped. 

“No!” she managed to choke out. 

“Fine. Just for that, I’m not making another batch. The next cookies I bake will be prepared at home and you will not be offered any.” Turning away with his nose held high, Tobirama dropped the tray of burnt crispy circles on the countertop with a frankly hilarious amount of attitude. 

All Madara could think was that the man had at least gotten what he wanted. He’d certainly gotten his distraction from thinking about the polls. That was the reasoning he used to justify not jumping in until Touka’s voice began to take on a familiar hissing quality. It was easy enough to distract her even with how little they knew one another, a simple question about how she had tightened security around the village in the past two weeks and Madara had her full attention. While Tobirama dealt with his ruined baking they chatted about all the subtle differences between how she organized her teams and the way he used to do it. 

For all that he’d been enraged to have such an important role taken away from him when it happened Madara could see now that things had all worked out for the best in this, too. Heading the police force really was the best place for him to be. They might not have a finished headquarters yet but he was proud of everything his volunteer officers had managed to accomplish so far. In fact, he was rather proud of everything accomplished by all factions since their clans all came together. Apparently he was in a very reflective mood lately. 

Eventually it was Touka who checked the clock and put an end to the time wasting. 

“Polls are starting in about five minutes,” she said. “Think the two of you should get going?”

“Ugh,” Tobirama groaned. 

“We really should.” Madara very carefully did not laugh at his partner’s reaction. When he cocked his head towards the door it was with both eyebrows raised in question. 

Touka considered his offer for a moment and then nodded. “Yeah I guess I’ll come along. Might as well find out firsthand which one of you poor sods is getting stuck with this job, eh?”

Neither of them was the least bit surprised when Tobirama shoved her on his way by, though Madara had to silently admit that he was a bit staggered by how well the three of them all got along as they made their way out of the house to mosey through the streets at an easy pace. Tobirama’s steps might have dragged a little but if he had any new complaints he didn’t bother to voice them. He was well aware that no one would listen if he did.

As busy as the roads had been when Madara was on his way in to the Senju district they were twice as bad now but eventually their little group made it to the village square. It took them until then to realize the reason that so many people were just standing around was because they were actually in line for the polls and the only reason the three of them had been let by was because they obviously weren’t casting their own ballot today. Coming around the last corner to see the madness in front of them was like a peek in to the future and it had Madara smiling.

“Well, you’ve managed to evade it for this little bit longer,” he murmured. “Are you ready to go face the inevitable?” 

“You are all enjoying this far too much,” was the only answer he got. 

Then Tobirama lifted his chin to march forward with the air of a man walking to his doom and Madara wondered if he were stepping ahead so he didn’t have to see the two behind him shake with amusement at his expense. Whatever the reason, he managed to retain a modicum of dignity and Madara decided he was feeling merciful enough to let the man keep it. By the time he caught up to the other he had successfully repressed his laughter and lifted his own chin, proud as any Uchiha clan head should be, more than ready to see which of them would be the one to shape the future ahead. 


	41. Chapter 41

The first time he sat at the desk he thought to himself that it was much too grand. Hashirama had made it, of course, just as Hashirama had used his mokuton to create another top floor of the administration tower, one very large room to sit atop all the rest, the official command center of everything visible from the massive windows lining one entire wall. And to fit such a large room there needed to be a large desk. Tobirama swiveled in his new chair and peeked over one shoulder. Of all the things he hated about this office, the fact that his back now faced the windows probably bothered him the most. Just another thing to get used to. 

Kagami’s face popping out from underneath the desk brought his attention back along with a smile. If anyone was having fun in his new real estate it was the little scamp he called a student. 

“No one could ever find me down here!” the boy declared. “It’s like a whole fort! Or a cave!” 

“Yes, it is a bit big, isn’t it?” 

“It’s awesome!” 

Lifting his face to gaze around the room, Tobirama hummed. “Not the word I would have chosen but I appreciate your enthusiasm all the same.” 

Everything in the room was brand new, an honor he had only been blessed with once in his life when he was shown to his matrimonial home for the first time. Even the chairs across the desk for visitors were new and the couch on the other side of the room which he assumed was Hashirama's unsubtle way of saying they all knew he was going to overwork himself at some point. He might as well have a place to crash when he did. It was flattering to be gifted so many things no matter the intentions behind them and yet as he took it all in again Tobirama couldn’t help but miss the familiarity of his old office, the desk that always felt too small and yet had everything he needed available within arm’s reach, the chair that squeaked if he turned too fast but sat at just the right elevation to keep his knees from aching. 

Whoever chose this new chair had obviously gone for size over comfort; it was probably big enough to swallow even Hashirama's massive frame. 

“Kaasan says you’re really important now,” his protégé announced, popping up from under the desk again. “More important than anyone else in the village – except for me. She says I’ll always be the  _ most _ important.” Kagami puffed out his chest and Tobirama couldn’t help but smile a little wider for him. 

“She is right about that.” 

“What’s a Hokage? She says you’re the very first Hokage but I’ve never heard that word before and the old lady next door came over before I could ask.” 

Fingers drumming against the dark wood before him, Tobirama considered how to explain the concept. “It means that the people of Konoha have chosen me as their leader. Almost the same way that the Daimyo is the ultimate authority of Hi no Kuni except I’m only in charge of one village, thank the spirits.”

Just the thought of having to deal with any more idiocy than he was already going to now made him shudder. 

“Oooh. So you’re really super important!” 

“Against my own will, I assure you,” Tobirama drawled. 

“You have to be extra careful then, right? Are you going to have guards now like the Daimyo does? My Obasan says the Daimyo never goes anywhere without at least three of his guards to protect him in case someone tries to come and hurt him. Maybe you should do that!” Kagami’s fingers curled over the arm of his chair, his eyes so wide and earnest one might never guess his training had progressed so well he could almost be considered as deadly as a fully grown adult. 

With a shake of his head, Tobirama huffed. “I don’t think I would enjoy that very much.”

“Now, now,” Madara's voice pitched in as the door clicked open. “The kid’s got a good idea building there. We’ve already lost two leaders and I’m sure I’m not alone in hoping that you survive longer than a single year in office. Maybe we should talk to Izuna about working something out with his ANBU.” 

“Is that truly necessary?” Pleasant as it was to see his husband, he wasn’t thrilled to have the man add his two cents to this ridiculousness. 

Madara hefted the box between his hands a little higher but not too high to cover the disgustingly contemplative look on his face. What a terrible look. Tobirama already knew he wasn’t going to enjoy whatever plans came out of that expression. Getting tricked in to this job was bad enough, did they really need to add more restrictions and annoyances on top of it all? 

“Sensei! Hey sensei!” Kagami tugged on his sleeve to get his attention again. “Can I be one of your guards?”

“You?” 

“Uh-huh! I want to protect sensei!” 

“I see.” Fighting the urge to melt, hoping his face betrayed nothing of his gooey inner feelings, Tobirama gave his student a pat on the arm. “When you’re a little older we can talk about it. You’re still a bit young for ANBU or guard squads just yet but I’m sure you’ll make a fine guard when you get there.” He couldn’t deny that the thought of his own protégé growing up to stand as his protector was adorably heart-warming. 

Madara grunted as he set his box down in one corner of the room, lifting the lid to check on the contents inside. From a distance it looked as though it were full of scrolls and that meant more paperwork. Wonderful. Tobirama was starting to wonder if he might drown under it all before anyone thought to remember the archives built in to the basement floors right underneath their feet. He took at least a small amount of consolation from watching Madara's arms flex, somehow bullied in to doing most of the heavy lifting as they tried to get everything set up in this new office. 

“How are you settling in?” his husband asked, closing the box and straightening up. 

“Already planning my escape routes, if you must know,” Tobirama admitted. To his credit he was only half serious. Right from the moment he stepped in to the room he’d been planning escape routes but no matter how much he griped he knew that he would see this duty through. 

The people had spoken. Just because he thought they had all taken collective leave of their senses by choosing him didn’t mean he was going to spit in their faces for making such a poor decision. 

“Oh, I don’t know, you seemed to be enjoying yourself just fine when I saw you earlier. Bossing the whole council of elders around like that? I wish I’d realized that was a perk of the job, I might have fought you for it!” Madara chuckled to himself while Tobirama grumbled darkly under his breath. If they’d had to fight for the position it would have been a short battle; he would have forfeited immediately. 

“Did any of them speak to you about it?” He asked, curious to know if they were already pushing back against his authority. Thankfully Madara shook his head. 

“I don’t think they were upset, mostly just shocked.” He shrugged. “They’re all clan heads and elders and heirs. Most of them have all but forgotten what it means to answer to an actual higher authority.” 

Kagami tilted his head. “Kaasan says I still have to listen to you, does that mean you’re a higher authority too Madara-sama?”

“Higher than you, brat!” 

“Behave, children,” Tobirama drawled. 

“Are you calling me a child!?” 

“You’re acting like one.” 

The little giggle at his side only made it all the funnier to watch Madara harrumph, moodily crossing his arms in a pretense of ignoring them both. 

It wasn’t all that much longer before Kagami grew bored, however, and Tobirama was more than happy to reach out with his senses and point the boy to wherever his mother had wandered off to. After cheerful waves, drawn out goodbyes, and a half dozen promises that he would be back in a little while the boy tottered off to leave his teacher and clan head alone on the top floor. Without him the room felt as though it had just a little less energy, like he’d taken it with him when he left. The feeling made Tobirama sigh. He wasn’t supposed to be middle aged for at least another decade. 

His cousin had always teased him that he’d been born an old man. 

“Are you disappearing in to your head already?” Madara broke in to his thoughts. 

“Perhaps a little.”

“What are you thinking so hard about?” 

Struggling to find the words, Tobirama drummed his fingers against the wood again. “Just…realizing that perhaps this job will have a few benefits that I might not have considered until now. Kagami may have escaped the necessity of attending the new academy but he’s hardly the only young impressionable mind out there. I was thinking that it might be nice having the chance to guide the next generation.” 

“You’re gonna be a bit busy for taking on any more students, I think.”

“I meant leading by example but thank you for the reminder that my free time has been effectively dismissed for the foreseeable future.” He glared but Madara only chuckled and trundled across the floor towards him. 

Tobirama wondered briefly if he was aware that he walked exactly like his own sensei, a habit most likely built entirely without conscious decision. Then he found himself distracted as the man slipped in to his lap and that was much more interesting to think about than walking patterns or anything else really. 

“Out of all of us I think you’re the best choice to guide the people,” Madara told him. 

“Because I’m the smartest?” 

“Hey! I’m smart! I don’t just mean because of your  _ overly big  _ brain. I mean because you have all the qualities that we need. Only instead of having those qualities spread out they’re all together in one person.” 

Confused, Tobirama frowned in to the middle distance. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know how Hashirama makes a good leader because he really listens to people? And I’m a good leader because I think ahead and try to consider how things will affect more than just myself. Touka’s a good leader because she knows who to delegate to and trusts her captains. But the people of Konoha chose your butt for that seat because they know that you have all of those things – and more. Not only that but anyone who’s worked with you before knows that you’re not going to waste time trying to prove anything; you’ve already proven what you can do.” 

For almost a minute breathing deeply was all Tobirama could do, unsure how to function under the weight of so much blind trust. Except it wasn’t blind, he supposed, if so many people seemed to think that he had already shown these qualities. 

“I’m not even twenty yet,” he pointed out very quietly. “Not even twenty and I stand authoritatively above the people who have decades more experience than I do.”

“They’ve also had decades of getting set in their ways,” Madara pointed out. He was right, of course. The council of elders were rather infamous for being a bunch of stubborn bastards. 

“Did they vote? They would have been allowed to unless they put their name on the ballot but I can’t even begin to guess who they might have thrown their support behind.” Tobirama knew as well as anyone else how many different opinions there could be in just one room when the whole council gathered. Having less than no control over the outcome, he hadn’t even bothered to check and see how many names were on the final list to be voted on or how the numbers had tallied. 

“You’re not going to like this. But I think most of them voted you in. Which means that most of them will have no trouble at all following wherever you lead them.”

He wrinkled his nose. Madara was right, he didn’t like that. If there had been dissent in the ranks he might have held on to the faintest hope of impeachment but alas. Apparently he really was stuck here.

“If you could go back in time,” Tobirama murmured, “back to the night before our marriage or even the day we were betrothed, would you? If you had the chance would you tell yourself what was to come?” He could feel the other man’s eyes on him but didn’t bother to meet them, busy as he was asking himself the same question. It was something that had been on his mind lately but no matter how much he turned it over in his mind he never seemed to land on one answer. His husband, evidently, was much more decisive than him. 

“No,” Madara answered after a few heartbeats. 

Tobirama finally looked over at him again. “Just like that? No?” 

“I’m proud of the journey we went through together. If I have known that everything was going to turn out alright then maybe I wouldn’t have tried so hard to get to know who you really are. And then maybe I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you. What we went through was a long process but it was…necessary, I think.”

With a hum he pulled Madara in for a kiss. “Look at you being all wise. I think I’ll make you my chief advisor.”

Before his partner could scowl and grumble that he’d already accepted the role of chief advisor there came a knock at the door and both of them scrambled to separate themselves. His first day in office was not the time to be starting rumors of defiling the place or anything so scandalous. Only when it opened a moment later to admit Hashirama's smiling face did he remember that he could have just stretched his senses again and he would have known whether or not they needed to panic. 

“Hello!” His brother called out in greeting, wiggling the fingers of his free hand. With the other he carried something large made of clean red and white cotton. 

“Dare I ask what you have there?” Tobirama grumbled. 

“You’ll like this! I thought you should have a badge of status or something so I made you a special Hokage’s hat!” 

Something dark like horror filled him as Hashirama pressed the hat in to his hands to be inspected from all angles. It was massive and well-crafted with a veil of white hanging down to protect the back of his neck from sight. When he looked back up his brother was beaming at him with pride, innocent and entirely empty of any ill intentions. 

“Thanks,” Tobirama told him. “I hate it.” Hashirama wilted like a flower. 

“But I designed it myself!” 

“Ah, that must be why it’s so hideous.” 

“So mean!” 

Madara snatched the thing out of his hands and flipped it around. “I mean, at least he used the right kanji for fire. Carrying around a spelling mistake over your forehead wouldn’t be a great impression to make on any newcomers.” 

“I thought it was really nice,” Hashirama sniffed. 

“You wouldn’t know style if it ran up and bit your wife on the bottom.” Tobirama sighed, eyeing the new accessory in mourning. His words were unkind and yet he just knew he was going to be guilted in to wearing it at some point. For all his bluster he was soft like that for the ones he loved.

After sticking out his tongue Hashirama snatched the hat back for himself and began picking off invisible bits of lint. “You’ve really grown up since we came here, you know? Even if you say mean things I know what you really feel. So I wanted to get you something that would remind you whenever you need it how proud I am of everything you’ve become.” 

He peeked up with those big brown eyes and for a moment Tobirama could only damn his own heart for clenching inside his chest. Those words meant so much more to him than he would ever be able to admit. 

The two of them were all they had left, really. He was closer to Touka, even Hashirama knew that, but she would never mean quite the same thing to him as his immediate family did. She would never be the brothers that crawled in to bed with him when the nightmares woke them, the quiet voices that whispered their secrets when father wasn’t around. There was something irreplaceable in Hashirama as the last of his siblings that not even Touka could ever be. 

Of course, in a way, Hashirama had been the last of his family long before Butsuma passed away. Watching his brother mourn a man who treated them as little better than soldiers had been a strangely painful thing. Like watching him grieve for something that had never been, a dream that fades at waking yet leaves behind some deep impossible yearning. He couldn’t help but want to take the man in a gentle embrace and explain to him that it was all so much wasted emotion but he knew better than that, knew that Hashirama needed to expel these feelings to move on, and so he’d been doing his best to simply stay away from the subject.

“I appreciate the gift,” he murmured eventually, trusting that his brother would understand what he was really trying to say. Hashirama smiled and reached out to ruffle his hair. 

“You deserve the whole world, do you know that?”

“Do try to praise me whilst keeping your hands to yourself,” Tobirama grumbled. 

Madara snickered so he turned to glare at his husband too, though the man didn’t seem all that terrified by his ire. 

Surprisingly Hashirama didn’t stay all that long. Despite his usual habit of dragging every conversation out three times longer than it needed to be he ducked out fairly quickly once he was sure his gift wouldn’t be shredded as soon as he was out of sight. Either he had developed a new enthusiasm for paperwork overnight or he was having a bit too much fun deciding how to decorate his own new space. In an effort to prevent either man from sitting in the echoes of unwanted memories Madara and Hashirama had each moved in to the now empty offices of each others’ predecessors. Evidently his brother had been enjoying the chance to fill once blank walls with tacky décor.

“A quick visit, that,” Madara noted as well once they were alone again.

“Indeed. And I do believe I’d like to make my own visit quick. All I wanted was to come familiarize myself with the new office, I didn’t mean to make a full day of it. There will be plenty of days ahead for me to be trapped in here.” He sighed just thinking about it

When they left Tobirama was careful to leave that horrendous hat behind, tucking it off in a random corner and hoping that no one else would notice it before he had time to think of a better hiding spot. Having his ears frozen in a biting wind was preferable to wearing that monstrosity. He entertained himself instead with the smug look on his husband’s face as they made their way home. In almost the same way Hashirama's regard had done, Madara's overwhelming pride to walk at his side touched him in ways he refused to speak out loud, warming him from the inside out to see how his partner puffed up like a happy peacock even though the citizens passing them by weren’t paying their respects to him. 

He deflated only slightly about halfway home when his steps faltered with the expression of someone who just thought of something they were supposed to remember several hours ago. 

“Didn’t Kagami say he was coming back at some point?” he asked. Tobirama waved him off with a quiet smile. 

“We both know he’s already forgotten. I can feel him dashing around the marketplace with his friends; he’s not going to be thinking of his boring sensei for quite some time.”

“You’re not boring,” Madara said. “Kagami doesn’t think so either. He wants to grow up to be just like you.”

“Poor taste,” Tobirama noted. 

His husband thwacked him on the arm, never one to appreciate a bit of good self-deprecation, and then his expression turned hesitant. A bit thoughtful. “If he’s distracted it usually takes him a while to remember what he was supposed to be doing. So you’re saying I have you all to myself for now?”

“It seems that way, yes.”

“Don’t suppose I could convince you to, ah, take advantage of that?” 

Heat shot through his body, very different from the subtle warmth he’d been floating in before. This was a fire, a burn, a tightness in his belly that made him quicken his steps in such a way that turned Madara's ears pink with a mixture of shame and pleasure. He’d brought it on himself really. If he was going to offer such things Tobirama was not the sort of man who would turn him down. 

Conversation was a bit stilted from then on as they continued. Now that they had a reason to hurry it felt as though half the population wanted to stop and offer Tobirama their congratulations and as touched as he was to see so many people supporting him all he really wanted was for the lot of them to go away so he could bend his husband over the nearest piece of furniture. Madara kept his mouth shut for the most part, nodding along when anyone asked him if he wasn’t just the proudest he could possibly be, clammed up tight as though he hadn’t just been strutting about like a peacock five minutes before. 

If nothing else the amusement of watching his desperation mount higher and higher was almost worth feeling the same. 

Tobirama could feel that his gait had gotten a little stiff by the time they both pushed inside their home. When Madara pressed him back against the wall of the genkan he struggled to return the affections while also kicking off one of his boots, uncaring for the snow and slush that he must be splashing everywhere. Not even the feeling of cold water soaking in to his socks was enough to deter him from pulling the other man closer by the hips and grinding their bodies together. 

Fighting their way out of the various boots and coats and scarves protecting them from the weather outside took much longer than Tobirama would have liked, long enough that when they were free at last to stumble their way inside the rest of the house he simply didn’t have the patience to move any farther than the couch. Out of all the times he had jokingly threatened to bend this man over their various pieces of furniture he’d only ever been about half-serious a few times. Having had no experience before their relationship, Madara seemed to consider intimacy anywhere but their actual bed to be filthy in the same way he thought of spanking as incredibly kinky. 

He didn’t seem to have any complaints about filth or shame at the moment as he was pushed up against the back of their couch. Lewd sounds of appreciation spilled from his lips as his fingers pulled at whatever pieces of cloth they had the coordination to latch on to. 

“Should have brought the damn hat,” he mumbled in the non-existent space between them. 

“You cannot tell me you found it attractive?” Tobirama meant for his words to come out as a demand. Instead they were breathless, absent, whispers soaking in to pale skin as he moved down his husband’s neck. 

“Not really-  _ nnh _ , feels good. S’just, dunno, it’s kind of hot that I’m…sleeping with the Hokage?” 

Tobirama pulled away far enough to stare in to his partner’s eyes, drinking in the way Madara shivered under his gaze. If the look on his face was even half as hungry as the heat in his belly then he couldn’t blame the man.

“Oh?” he purred. “Does my beloved husband have an  _ authority kink _ ?” 

“S-shut up.” Madara turned his head away but his protests had very little impact when followed with a deep moan, body melting under the sensation of teeth scraping along the lines of his neck. 

Nipping his way up just far enough to nibble on a defenseless earlobe, Tobirama allowed himself a vicious smirk. Finally a preference to work with. This alone was more than worth the trouble of being forced in to the limelight. With a sharp nip that drew a gasp he whispered in a voice that rasped with all the want inside him on naked display. 

“Don’t tell me what to do; you’re not in charge right now, anata.” When Madara shivered under him Tobirama felt bold enough to add, “Turn around.” 

“Need to reach over here anyway,” his husband mumbled as though to justify following the directions they both knew he wanted to anyway. As soon as he had spun to face the couch back he was stretching one arm out and leaning over to wriggle his fingers, trying desperately to reach the little tub of lotion he’d taken to leaving out for the evenings when dry fingers began to crack and bleed in to whatever book he was reading. 

“How resourceful of you,” Tobirama praised him. 

Although he was kind enough not to comment on the blush that followed his words he was slave enough to his own hormones to enjoy it, reveling in the knowledge that it was him and only him who could put such heat on that face. Married men they might be but that did nothing to stop many eyes in the village from admiring a shapely form and Tobirama knew exactly how many others wished they could be in his position right at this moment.

Which only made it all the more delicious listening to his own name fill the room in a desperate chant as he spread the man open and pressed inside, curling over Madara's body with some half-formed animal drive to keep him safe. His teeth bared in a grimace of pleasure, skin prickling where the chill of the room warred with the heat of their joining, Tobirama rocked his hips in an impatient rhythm. The world around them was lost to his consciousness as he took and took and gave back everything he had. Every gasp and cry that fell from his husband’s lips was a sweet chorus calling for more, a call he was all too happy to answer. 

Curled so tightly as he already was, it took little more than a tilt of his head to whisper against the shell of Madara's ear, hips snapping with every rock forward. 

“I love you,” he breathed. Madara whined, legs stiffening as he too drew close to the edge. “I want only you like this; I want no one else to ever see you in these moments. Come for me, anata.”

“ _ Gods _ .” His husband gave up holding his own weight and folded to allow the couch to bear their movements. Tobirama tightened his fingers on the hips in his grasp and bit an ear already hot and fever red. 

“Do as I say, hm? Come for your Hokage.” 

Later he might ruminate over the possibility that Madara's arousal had been triggered by the idea that no one else had ever stood above him in authority like this before, a thrilling new dynamic he hadn’t encountered until he was outranked by his own husband. But that was later. In this moment Tobirama choked on his own breath as Madara clamped down around him and cried out in a filthy rasp that tumbled both of them in to ecstasy. 

In the brief seconds when the world turned white and fuzzy Tobirama knew only the clutch of the passage stealing his sanity and the husky mantra of his own name, the sensation of Madara's body quaking beneath his own. Fading back in to reality came with the realization that he was also mumbling over and over, sweet nothings and praises, every secret emotion inside his heart slipping between his lips as though the very world depended on him to fill the air with such nonsense. It took effort but he managed to clench his teeth and silence himself in the damp skin of his partner’s neck. 

“Never ever speak of this,” Madara's voice grumbled quietly. 

“Of the incredible sex we just had?” Tobirama asked without moving. “I’m hardly the type to brag about my exploits, you know.” 

“That’s not what I meant! I just- you can’t- no making fun of me for this!” 

With one eyebrow already lifting Tobirama cracked his eyes open. “Nor am I the type to mock you for your preferences. I am, however, going to shamelessly exploit them. If you thought I wasn’t going to take advantage of that little slip then I regret to say you may have misjudged me, anata.” 

Madara's answering grunt sounded more like eager capitulation than a protest. 

Cleaning up after themselves was slightly more awkward in the living room with no master bathroom a mere handful of steps away but eventually Tobirama managed to sort them both out enough that they could collapse down on to the sofa together where he found himself trapped in one corner as Madara leaned back against him with loose limbs and heavily lidded eyes. 

“Falling asleep on me?”

“No. I’m just resting my eyes for a bit.” 

“Ah, I see.” Tobirama smiled, running his fingers through the mane of hair between them. “Strangely enough I think you may have been right about all this.” 

“Well that’s not something I hear very often. Are you feeling alright? You don’t normally admit when I’m right.” 

Smacking him gently on the arm did nothing but elicit a snicker but Tobirama didn’t have the energy to do anything other than roll his eyes. “I am perfectly fine, thank you very much. All I meant was that perhaps this detestably unwanted duty may not be as terribly bad as it seems. With you supporting me I think everything will turn out alright.” 

“I will always support you,” Madara told him quietly. 

Feeling his heart clench inside his chest, Tobirama bent his neck to press a kiss against the back of his partner’s head. 

“I know. And I will always be lucky to have you.” 

“Damn straight you’re lucky to have me. I am  _ quite _ the catch.” Madara harrumphed and rolled his head as though trying and failing to gather the energy for a flip of his impressive hair. 

Tobirama said nothing but in his silence there was an agreement. He might not say it aloud very often but he did recognize precisely how blessed he was. Not only to have a man like Madara in his life but to have won his honest affection, to earn his place in a heart so closely guarded. Surely there could be no higher honor. 

“We can bring the hat next time though, right?” 

“If you like.” Swallowing his laughter, Tobirama decided then that he knew the answer to his earlier question. And oddly enough his husband appeared to be right about this as well. Given the chance to go back in time, to speak to himself eight months ago and forewarn of everything that would happen in the future, he would choose to do it all again exactly as they had. Madara's love meant so much more to him now that he knew how deeply the man had searched his own soul to allow himself such emotions. To be handed a prize meant so much less than to win it for himself. 

“Are we having a nap now?” Madara asked. His voice didn’t sound particularly sleepy; if anything he seemed to be looking for an excuse to just not get up for a while. 

“Mn, if you like,” Tobirama said again. 

Listening to his husband grumble at him for being cheeky, he let his eyes fall shut and his head tilt back, basking in the scent of his most beloved person and the security of knowing that everything would turn out alright in the end. What end that might be he could not say but with Madara there at his side he found that what mattered the most was not the destination, it was the journey. 


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the final chapter, my friends. I cannot possibly say thank you enough for all the support so many of you have given this story, all the wonderful comments that truly warmed my heart. MASSIVE shoutout here to copyninken, officerjennie, and kage88 who all helped me work myself out of tight spots while I was figuring out some difficult chapters. Hard to believe that we've reached the end. Thank you all for coming along on the journey!

Opening the door with several cardboard boxes in his hands was made twice as difficult by the stupidly complicated seals protecting it. Why Tajima had been so paranoid when his possessions weren’t any fancier than anyone else’s was beyond him but Madara was mostly disappointed in himself for forgetting to ask Tobirama’s help disabling these stupid wards. Stomping in and out a hundred times would be so much easier if he didn’t have to unlock the seals every time. 

“Would you get out of the way, brat?” Susumu’s voice was the first to greet him once he finally managed to struggle his way inside, though thankfully she didn’t seem to be talking to him. For once.

“I’m not in the way!” Kagami’s voice shot back. “You’re making a mess, baa-chan!” 

“Oh shush your face. Sometimes you have to make a mess to clean a mess.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense!” 

Madara paused in the genkan to shake snow out of his hair and gave some thought to leaving his boots on. It wouldn’t matter if the floors got dirty, after all, and they would all need a good scrubbing before the house was sold anyway. After a moment of thought he kicked them off anyway. If he left them on he just knew that he would inevitably kneel down and sit back on his own heels without thinking, soaking dirt and snow in to his backside. None of the people here were in any way above mocking him for doing so. It was much safer for his temper to simply avoid embarrassing himself as much as possible. 

Rounding the corner brought him in to the middle of chaos. That was the only word to describe what had once been a very neat and orderly living room that now looked as though a localized tornado had come through. Which, Madara thought with a snort, could be a fairly apt description of Susumu-sensei. His teacher stood in the center of the madness with one hand on her hip and the other pointing imperiously from side to side as she directed a grumbling Kagami to pack which items in which box. 

When she spotted her old student in the doorway her eyes gleamed and Madara was quick to start walking again. 

“Coward!” she hollered after him. He stopped and turned back to stick his tongue out at her and then spun to hustle down the hall at double speed. 

Izuna sat on the floor of their father’s bedroom when he entered, clothing and personal items all gathered in to organized piles here and there. His expression was somber as he stared down at the pendant dangling from a chain held in one hand. Dull silver did its best to catch the light as it spun, dusty and old yet no less precious than it had been when it was brand new. 

“Do you remember this?” he asked without turning. Madara set his boxes down and sighed. 

“Of course. Mother’s necklace; she wore it every day.” 

“It’s almost strange that he kept it.” Bringing his other hand up, Izuna caught the pendant to trace the simple twisting shape with his thumb. “He was so empty when we lost her. I mean, I get it, that’s what the Sharingan can do to us. He broke because he loved her so much. But when he did it was like he forgot how to love  _ anything _ , even her memory, so it’s strange to know that he kept mementos like this. Do you think he just forgot it was here?”

Madara shrugged as he settled on the edge of the mattress just beside his brother’s shoulder. “Can’t say. After he shut us out I didn’t exactly spend a lot of time with him.”

“I miss him. The old him.” His brother heaved a sigh that carried years of emotion. Then he easily leaned in to the touch when Madara reached down to stroke the top of his head, no other words needed to convey the understanding they shared. 

“He was a good father until he wasn’t,” Madara said. 

Nodding carefully so as not to displace the hand comforting him, Izuna grunted. “Even if I won’t miss the way he became it’s still really weird knowing he’s gone. I might not have been close to him anymore but he’s been a constant for my entire life. Almost two decades of having him over my shoulder; now I’m drifting on my own and it’s…a little sad, in a way. A little scary.” 

“I suppose I can understand that, although I don’t know if I feel quite the same way. Sensei has been there for me a lot more than father was even before we lost him to the emptiness. It’s a shame you were never as close to her as I am.”

“She wasn’t  _ my _ teacher.” 

“True, still a shame though.” Madara stroked his hair again. “Maybe it wouldn’t feel as though you’d lost the last of your family.”

Reaching up to capture the hand on his head, Izuna wove their fingers together for a quick squeeze. “I still have you, Aniki. I know that I’m not entirely alone. Packing up all of his stuff just has me in a bit of a maudlin mood.” 

“Understandable. Just don’t start weeping on anything, alright? We can’t sell it off if it’s all ruined by water damage.” It took quick movements to free his hands and dodge off the mattress before Izuna could smack him for that. Madara was happy to see an exasperated smile blossoming on his brother’s face even if it was accompanied by rolling eyes.

He was already halfway to the door and reaching for the boxes he’d carried in when the other blew a raspberry in his direction. 

“Go on! I don’t have time for you if you’re going to be like that!” 

Clearly he didn’t mean it but Madara hadn’t planned to stick around in there for much longer anyway. He had his own share of the sorting to do and lounging around with the others who had promised to help him would get none of it done. 

Well, not entirely true. Their share would get done. Really the consequence he was worried about was the many horrors any of them might come up with if they realized that he hadn’t done his share. Spurred on by his own rather dark imagination, he wasted no time stepping in to what appeared to have been his father’s home office. Or so he assumed from the presence of a desk against one wall even if the thickness of dust everywhere indicated this might not exactly be the most frequently used room in the house. Much as he would have liked to disparage the man as lazy Madara knew it was because Tajima had a habit of spreading his work over the kitchen table so he could work while he cooked and ate or even look over some of it in passing while he cleaned. 

Lacking any better place to start, Madara first wandered along the bookshelves and took in the titles to see if they needed any organization before being packed away. He was utterly unsurprised to see they had already been immaculately separated in to categories. That made it easier to simply drag one of the boxes over and begin emptying them all in, packing the rows as tightly as he could until he remembered that he was the one who would need to carry this all out later. Nothing would be more embarrassing than having to add a little chakra just to get one little box off the ground. 

Some of the books he set aside in another pile and left the boxes he filled unsealed until Tobirama could look through it all to see if he was interested in adopting any of them. No sense in letting knowledge go to waste. Not to mention that he was probably one of very few who could make sense of them. Why Tajima had been keeping books on advanced fūinjutsu theory when he barely understood the basics was probably a question none of them wanted the answer to. 

Once the bookshelves were emptied Madara turned towards the desk with a sigh. He could only guess what sort of idiocy had been gathering dust within those drawers and with the rising prevalence of storage scrolls it was impossible to say how much junk he would actually need to sift through. Staring at the desk wasn’t getting anything done, however, so with dragging steps he went over to push the chair out of his way and sat down on the floor, pulling the bottom drawer open. To his surprised delight there wasn’t much inside, a few folders containing papers relevant to clan business and a few to-do lists that seemed to be from the past spring when they all emigrated here. It was hard to believe that it had already been three quarters of a year since these lists were needed - and just as hard to believe that it had  _ only _ been three quarters of a year.

Although lately it seemed like there was nothing else on his mind, Madara couldn’t help but think of all the things that had changed since Konoha was first settled. Barely a year ago he had shared a bedroom wall with his last surviving brother, tapping messages to each other in the dark of night when dreams woke them both. Like a wayward child he had spent his last few months as a single man roaming the forests around their territory with a perpetual pout as he bemoaned cruel fate for imposing an unwanted husband upon him. His duties had been no more than daily chores and a few administrative things his father didn’t care to do himself, dreams of love at first sight still dancing in the back of his mind, everlasting and easy as a summer smile. 

How naïve he had been. 

Now his days were filled from morning till night with duties for both clan and village, decisions and tasks to help lead the way to a brighter tomorrow, a future where children like Kagami could flourish without fearing for their lives on an early battlefield. Where even the adults slept safely without jolting awake at night and wondering if that was the sound of the wind or if their homes were being invaded by rival clans. 

Sliding the first drawer shut with a quiet snap, Madara took a deep breath. It was nice to look back at all that was but he had always preferred to look forward instead. As one of two chief advisors to their new Hokage he hoped he could encourage at least a few people to do the same. 

When he opened the second drawer his first reaction was to let the air back out of his lungs in a great exasperated rush. His worst fears seemed to have been realized; it was full of storage scrolls. The only silver lining was that they all appeared to be labelled with the contents so it was easy to put them in to piles as he pulled the whole lot out one by one. Some looked to be more administrative papers. One label made him cringe as he suspected it contained the entirety of the old filing cabinet that used to sit in his father’s office at the old compound. 

It was the final scroll at the very bottom which gave him pause. Surrounded by piles of varying sizes, Madara reached in to the drawer and paused to see something unexpected labelling the end of this last one. His own name. His brows furrowed and he traced his fingers from one end to the other as he tried to think of what might be inside. His name could mean many things. Not all of them were good. After a minute or so of contemplation he took the scroll in a careful grip and hefted it as though the weight might belie its contents, a myth he’d already had disproved while he learned to draw this seal for himself. 

Of all the many things he might have expected to appear when he opened the parchment across his lap to carefully apply a bit of chakra, letters did not even appear on the list. Yet that was exactly what he got, an entire stack of letters that wobbled and toppled immediately in to a messy pile between his folded legs. Each was written on identical parchment, penned with identical ink, similar formats though they were all of varying lengths. Two things stood out to him immediately. 

First that these had all been written in a very familiar hand, though the neatly printed dates in the top right hand corners were all from before he and this person had even met. 

Secondly that another familiar hand had busily scrawled an endless series of notes in the margins of every letter in a different color ink. Madara could remember his lessons as a young boy, writing papers to show how his vocabulary and literacy had grown, receiving them back from his father with blue ink in the margins noting all the places he could still improve or small thoughts on his turn of phrase. Now here it was again and Madara could hardly believe his eyes. 

_ ‘Not even their natures match, can they truly be happy?’ _ Tajima had written beside an inquiry in to whether any members of their clan were born with an affinity for water. 

_ ‘Madara knows nothing of such things’  _ had been scrawled in next to a rambling paragraph about sealing techniques, followed just below with  _ ‘The clan could benefit from this knowledge’. _

Another letter from a different day included carefully worded questions, the first tentative steps of a man getting to know his prospective spouse. Tajima had written in the answers with notes to remind himself to word them in Madara's turn of phrase. But what truly stole the breath from Madara's chest now was the final paragraph in which the original author had made his hopes known for a happy marriage and the lines deeply scored in to the parchment where Tajima had circled these words and written ‘ _ Our futures depend on it’.  _

If he were honest Madara had all but forgotten the underlying reason behind their initial difficulties. Now he sifted through the letters that Tobirama had written to him before they ever met, reaching out with honest intentions, ignorant of the fact that none of the replies had been penned by the one he was writing too, and fell in love all over again. His questions were earnest, his heart already open. And from the notes in blue ink Madara could imagine that Tajima had taken some creative liberties with his responses in an effort to make him sound more receptive to the idea than he had actually been.

Not to sabotage them deliberately, he realized at last, but to give them the chance that he had been so adamantly against at the time. To draw Tobirama in and allow him to see the person Madara was, something which Madara could now willingly admit he would not have allowed. He had gone in to their marriage with his hackles up and on their own it would have taken months upon months for him to allow the other man in enough to know even the simplest things about him. Of course, Tajima had unintentionally caused a similar situation anyway but his interference had already laid the groundwork for things to eventually work out in the end. It wasn’t enough for Madara to forgive him his meddling, it didn’t make it okay, but it was good to finally have an explanation for things that had hurt him even if he had long gotten over such injuries.

It was good to know that, even while his father felt empty and cold in the wake of his beloved wife’s death, there was room in him to try. Perhaps not to care as he once had but to reach towards humanity with intentions that might be perceived as compassionate in his own broken way. 

Dropping the letters back in to his lap, Madara lifted his chin to look around at the dusty unused office. He had watched his father change in strange ways since coming to Konoha but until this moment he’d never been able to come up with a plausible explanation for why. How could such a proud and intelligent man make so many idiotic mistakes? Now he wondered if perhaps Tajima hadn’t simply grown tired of life. After paving the way for a better future, then turning his eyes back towards the past. It sounded just like him to find a way to go out in a blaze of glory, to go to his final rest where he could be with his beloved and take with him the last obstacle between tyranny and true peace – Butsuma. 

Of course, with the both of them dead no one would ever know for sure. It was only a theory and it didn’t matter much in the long run besides loosening the knots in Madara's chest ever so slightly. His feelings had been complicated ever since they lowered Tajima’s body in to the ground but it felt strangely easier to mourn him now. 

Packing up the rest of the office was a task he completed with his head almost entirely lost in the clouds. One moment there was hours of work left ahead and the next he was standing in the middle of the room with piles of cardboard around him, empty shelves yawning along each wall as though hungry to be filled again. Izuna’s chakra had moved in to another part of the house but Susumu and Kagami remained in the front room, joined now by another. After glancing around at the work he’d apparently done Madara left the room and drifted naturally towards the one who had just arrived. 

He expected to find Tobirama shaking his finger at the other two with a lecture on how to be more productive. It was a shock to instead find Tobirama flat out on his back pretending to squirm while Kagami held him down and declared himself the new Hokage for defeating his sensei, an incorrigible Susumu cheering them both on from the sides. With her head thrown back and one hand clutching her belly in laughter it was hard to remember the last time he'd seen her look so jolly, a sight that filled Madara’s chest with warmth in a way he didn’t expect to hit him quite so hard. Pausing in the doorway, heart in his throat, he watched the three of them interacting as though they had always been a family and thought to himself that he could never imagine anywhere he would rather be.

Surely there could be no other alternate universe where he was happier. 

“Come on, you’re not giving any effort!” Susumu called. “Defend yourself oh mighty Hokage!”

“I can’t, he’s too strong.” Tobirama made an exaggerated show of trying and failing to push away the arms holding him to the floor. Kagami giggled and flopped bodily down over his teacher’s chest. 

“You can’t move! I win! I’ll keep you trapped here forever!” 

“But how will I eat?”

Kagami’s face was a masterpiece of surprise as he appeared to realize this very serious issue. If the two of them were busily locked in a battle of wills for the rest of forever how were either of them going to fill their tummies? The distraction was enough that Tobirama was able to pounce, rolling up in to a sitting position to throw the boy over his shoulder and follow the motion through to stand up fully, grinning openly while Kagami’s squeals filled the room.

“How the tables have turned,” he rumbled.

“Sensei! Put me down!” 

“Oh? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?” Tobirama feigned an expression of surprise for Susumu, who only laughed harder and still offered no help to either side. 

As he watched from the doorway Madara was glad of the chance to wipe at his eyes unseen. He would never hear the end of it if any of these idiots saw him misting over just from happiness; it would be the single most embarrassing moment of his life. Clearly he had earned mercy from one god or another since Izuna didn’t magically appear from nowhere to point and laugh. After a quick check to make sure his brother was still settled with no obvious signs of popping out from wherever he had squirrelled himself away, Madara drew in a slow breath and stepped forward. 

With all the furniture moved around to clear the center of each room they had created almost an extension of the hallway leading from himself to his loved ones. Keeping his eyes locked on Tobirama, tracing the shape of that gorgeous smile, he couldn’t help but compare this moment to the moment when they first met. 

The walk down this aisle looked infinitely less terrifying than that day. Where before he had seen nothing but a gaping chasm of the unknown he saw now the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. On the day they met they had stood together at the altar and known nothing but each other’s faces. The man he saw here was nothing like he could have ever predicted, nothing like the horrific things he had laid awake worrying himself with imagining. When Madara reached the top of this aisle it was to be greeted with such a gentle look in his husband’s eyes that for a moment he had no words. 

“I came to help,” Tobirama murmured, blithely ignoring Kagami’s tiny fists where they beat against his lower back. 

“Looks like you’re doing a wonderful job.” 

Susumu-sensei let out one final bark of amusement and propped both hands on her hips. “He’s helping me work some energy out of this little half-baked tartlet. Have you come to ruin our fun, little one? Crack the whip and get us back to work?”

“Not at all,” Madara denied innocently. “I only wanted to suggest that if Tobirama holds him low enough he would be at just the right height for you to ruffle his hair.” 

Kagami screeched with betrayal and shouted for them all to leave his curls alone. They ignored him, of course. Instead Tobirama bent his knees until the boy was just low enough for a good ruffling and grinned openly at Madara as he held the squirming legs in place with an iron grip. 

Seeing him so happy and carefree had Madara's stomach flipping over itself in the best possible way. Eight months ago he would never have been comfortable expressing even mild amusement around any of them let alone smiling so widely. It was a testament to how well he had accepted this family as his own, a mark of how content he was in this life they had all built together.

It was everything he had ever wanted.

By some miracle he managed not to burst out in to a great sobbing mess of disgusting happiness but was somehow able to hold himself at bay and wait patiently until at last Tobirama had the mercy to set Kagami back down. The tightness in Madara's chest was not helped at all when the little mite immediately threw both arms around his teacher’s waist to beam up at him happily as though he had enjoyed the last several minutes of torture. When he let go he turned to shake a finger at Susumu and tell her off for attacking him so deviously, giving Madara the opening he needed to beckon his partner over. Tobirama slid in to his arms like a puzzle piece slotting in to place. 

“Good afternoon, anata.”

“Hm, surprisingly it has been, yes. I thought this would be quite a dour affair but there’s been…a few surprises that kept me in high spirits.” Madara tossed the idea back and forth of revealing what he’d found in the office. Then Tobirama smiled down at him and he decided to leave it be. Things were fine as they were. 

“By any chance was I one of those surprises?” His husband asked with a cheeky grin.

Surrounded with warm and happy chakra, held tightly in the arms that kept him safe from the pains of the world, and so in love that he could hardly stand himself, Madara could do nothing more than smile back and shake his head very slowly. 

“From the moment I met you,” he murmured softly, “you have been the best and the greatest surprise of my life.” 


End file.
